Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
What the hell was wrong with me?
I could be willful and obstinate but I’d taken it to a whole new level. Stubbornness had given way to immaturity.
This was not me.
I wasn’t childish.
But for some reason, with Tucker I couldn’t bring myself to behave like the grown woman I was. No, it had nothing to do with maturity and everything to do with vulnerability. I’d done that once, and he’d shot me down. The sting of that night was still fresh, the pity in his gaze when he left me at my hotel door. Always the gentleman, the nice guy, thinking walking me to my room was the right thing to do, not knowing how much it hurt to watch him walk away. I wasn’t hankering for a repeat.
There was no way to talk about the past, about what happened between us, without talking about that night specifically. I’d be exposed and he’d likely feel like shit for hurting me. It was a no-win situation.
But there was no getting around us working together so I had to give him something. And he was right; I wasn’t going to ask about Crystal or what she meant to him. I was too chickenshit. His answer had the power to destroy me.
“You’re right,” I told him. “I have no call feeling any sort of way about a woman calling you. I never did have that right.”
My sort-of-apology backfired.
“You never had the right?” he seethed.
“Well…no.”
In all the shitty luck that had transpired in the last two days, being alone with Tucker when he was pissed as hell was the worst of it.
Tucker angry was hot. His gray eyes deepened. He stood taller. His biceps flexed and jumped. He turned into an apex predator that would’ve been frightening if I didn’t know he’d never hurt me.
But since I did know his sparking temper would never physically harm me, it was a turn-on.
Shitty luck, indeed.
“I’d call bullshit on that but that would mean we’d have to dig into the past. But just so we’re clear, once upon a time we meant something to each other. So, yeah, you absolutely had the right to question who was calling. And you know, I would’ve been honest. I’ve never cheated on a woman?—”
“But you’ve had other women.” Why the hell did I say that?
His torso swung back and his eyes narrowed, turning the smoky-gray-blue into tiny slivers of fury.
“And you had other men. Your point?” he sneered. “And you married one of those pricks.”
I had no point.
My comment was nothing more than a reminder to myself that while we had a close friendship, he was never mine. Not in a romantic way. He hadn’t returned my feelings which had led me to finding something with someone else, even if it would never compare to what I felt for him.
“It was a shit thing for me to say, Tucker. I’m sorry.”
“It was shit, but the real question is, why’d you say it?”
And there we were again—we’d circled back around to a topic I was willing to do anything to avoid. Including lying my way out of it.
“Because I’m acting?—”
Three loud knocks on Tucker’s door saved me.
“Sorry, Tucker, but Jessica’s on the line for you,” Lauren called through the door.
Thank you, God .
“We’re not done,” he warned before he said louder, “Thanks, Lauren.”
I was rooted in place as Tucker stalked around his desk, stabbed a finger at the phone base, and calmly answered Jessica’s call.
“Sorry for the delay. Is everything okay?”
“Colleen called Allyson,” Jessica’s quivering voice filled the room. “Beatrice is dead.”
Fuck .
I pulled my phone out of the back pocket of my jeans and held it up for Tucker to see. He nodded his understanding before I bolted to the door.
I texted Frank to meet me out in the hall before I pulled up Shannon’s number and hit go.
It took four rings before she answered. “I was just getting ready to call you. Local LEOs found Beatrice Collins this morning in a house outside of Rogersville, Tennessee. About twenty miles from the Nu Dawn compound.”
“Cause of death?” I asked as Frank rounded the corner. “Hold on, Shannon. Frank’s here.” I lowered my phone from my ear to place the call on speaker while I filled in my partner. “Beatrice was found dead this morning. Go on, Shannon.”
“GSW to the head.”
“Did the locals give you anything else?”
“Not much. It was a through-and-through. They found the bullet lodged in a TV stand. Due to the angle it looks like she was done on her knees. Frank, the locals are expecting you. Since Liza can’t be seen in the area, Greg will meet you there.”
Greg Newsome was a taskmaster and had trained many agents fresh out of the federal law enforcement training center. He’d have better luck keeping Frank on target than I did.
“Allyson knows her friend is dead. Tucker’s on the phone with Jessica now. As soon as he’s done, he’ll come brief us before Frank leaves.”
“Call me after you talk to Tucker,” Shannon ordered. “Frank, your itinerary will be in your inbox in five minutes.”
With that, my boss hung up.
“Frank—”
“Listen, Liza?—”
We both started at the same time.
I nodded for him to go first.
“I just wanted to say, no hard feelings.”
Was he serious?
I didn’t ask that—not that he gave me the chance before he blathered on, “I’ve dealt with assholes like him before. Total power trip types who think they’re the smartest in the room and have to prove they’ve got the biggest… well, you know.”
Yeah, I did know.
Frank wasn’t just an idiot, he was an idiot asshole.
Though I’d known that since the day I was first saddled with him.
I was still filling my lungs with the oxygen I needed to tell Frank exactly what I thought of him calling Nick Clark an asshole when Tucker’s door swung open. The look on his face didn’t bode good tidings.
“What’d she say?” I asked.
“Rumors are flying around the compound.”
“What kind of rumors?”
“That Beatrice fell in with the wrong crowd and Mackenzie did everything she could to pull her out. I asked Jessica if Allyson was up for a visit. She said Allyson’s holed up in her room, but she thinks we need to get over there quick. She’s afraid Allyson’s going to go back to Tennessee.”
Frank scoffed. “Is she dumb? Her friend’s dead and she wants to rush to the scene of the crime. How brainwashed is she?”
That was it.
I’d had enough.
I whirled on my partner. Normally my height didn’t bother me. I was not one of those women who wished for a supermodel’s length. Though right then having to look up at Frank—which meant he was staring down his nose at me—only served to annoy me more.
“So many times,” I fumed. “Like, a hundred times a day I wonder what I did to get stuck with you. At least fifty of those times, I call you an asshole in my mind. The last time that thought popped into my head was less than two minutes ago when you were going on about Nick Clark. Here’s the thing, Frank, the man with the biggest… you know what in the room doesn’t need to swing it around. He knows his dick is big. He’s secure in the knowledge he has it going on. He doesn’t need to make himself feel important by injecting stupidly into a conversation. You’d know this if you weren’t a self-absorbed, lazy prick, with the worst case of tiny dick I’ve ever had the displeasure of dealing with.”
“Fuck—”
“Careful, Delco,” Tucker rumbled.
Frank’s gaze snapped to Tucker along with his mouth snapping closed.
Maybe he wasn’t so stupid after all. Or he instinctively knew Tucker was the man with the bigger dick in this scenario and he’d wipe the floor with Frank’s lifeless body if he mouthed off.
“It shocks me I have to explain to you why Allyson would want to go back to Tennessee. Not only is it her home but her friends are there. Friends who are mourning the loss of one of their own. It has nothing to do with brainwashing, it’s about loyalty and adoration. Neither of those emotions you seem to possess, so really I shouldn’t be all that shocked you don’t get it.”
“You don’t know me?—”
“I know just yesterday, you went to get coffee instead of taking my back.”
“Why the fuck would I take your back and get buried under shit right alongside you?”
“Lizzy,” Tucker called. When I glanced at him he shook his head.
I stepped back and blew out a breath.
As per usual, Frank wrongly read the situation.
“I see the stories about you are bullshit,” Frank sneered.
I didn’t know what stories he was talking about and I didn’t care.
“No, pal,” Tucker huffed. “You’re blind as fuck. You think Liza pulled back because I called her off. Which brings us back to her original assertation—though in this case the alpha doesn’t have a dick, she doesn’t need to assert her dominance. She’s simply more intelligent than you are. Me reminding her that’s the case was a time-saving measure. As fun as it would be to watch her talk you into a deeper hole, we have work to do.”
Frank’s dirty look aimed Tucker’s way missed its mark. And when Tucker smirked, causing Frank’s face to flame a brighter red, I was worried he would have blood vessel damage if this didn’t end.
“We need to?—”
“Fuck you, Liza. I’m calling Shannon on my way to the airport.”
With that threat, he turned on his loafers and stomped down the hall.
I wasn’t sure which was more amusing, him threatening to tattletale or him stomping like a five-year-old having a temper tantrum.
“What the fuck was that?” Tucker asked.
“That was the last time I listen to Frank run his mouth and act like an asshole. I was done with his shit six months ago. Steve was a great partner, anyone who came after him would be a hard act to follow. I put up with Frank because I thought it was me being a hyper-critical bitch. I wasn’t, Frank’s just a shit person.”
“Honey—”
I knew what that soft tone meant; nice guy Tucker was coming out to play. I cut him off before he could gut me with his kindness.
“Frank’s a crybaby, I’m sure he’s already on the phone with her. Unfortunately for him, his complaints will fall on deaf ears. Unfortunately for me, he’s taken the car to the airport.”
“Airport?”
Right.
He didn’t know.
“Shannon already knew. GSW. The locals are waiting for Frank to arrive. Greg Newsome will meet Frank in Tennessee.”
“Right. You can use my Yukon. I’ll take a company SUV.”
Use his Yukon that undoubtedly smells like him…um, no.
“I can rent another car.”
“You can try. But this is Hollow Point, not the city. Besides, it’ll be a waste.”
I heard footsteps behind me and glanced over my shoulder to find a man who looked like he had walked off the pages of GQ. That was, if GQ had a badass, military edition. Striking green eyes, strong, cut jaw, dark hair that made those green eyes more pronounced. He was male-model gorgeous, even the scar marring one side of his face added to the sex appeal.
Cripes, he was hot.
What was it with Triple Canopy? Did they hit up modeling agencies for staffing? And it wasn’t just the men in the building. Lauren and Liberty were beautiful.
“Trey, this is Agent Liza Monroe. Lizzy, Trey Durum.”
The man called Trey looked beyond me, his lips twitching in that sexy way good-looking men tend to do when they find something amusing.
“Liza,” he drawled. “Nice to meet you.”
Trey’s gaze didn’t stray from my face. Not that I was much to look at, but I was a woman and in my experience men as good-looking as Trey tended to do a full body scan. It was like they thought it their due and if they liked what they saw, with nothing more than with a wink and a smile, they could have it.
Trey took no such liberties.
I liked him immediately.
It must be noted, I’d never seen Tucker do a full-body scan unless the person in front of him was a suspect. And the first time his gaze had dropped to my cleavage was after I’d made it clear that perusal would be welcomed. Before that, he’d always been professional, albeit in a friendly way. It was me who’d shifted that friendly banter to flirty.
However, after I’d opened the door, he’d sauntered straight through it and surpassed my best efforts. Tucker Mitchell had it going on and he knew it. Thankfully not in an up-his-own-ass kinda way. He was hot. He had the body and looks, but more than that he had what could only be described as swagger. The good kind of arrogance that was magnetic. The promise of a good time with a good guy who was hot but wasn’t a player in the sense he’d screw you and kick you out the door when he was done.
All of that proved to be true after he’d screwed me within an inch of my life. He didn’t kick me out after he was done, instead he’d pulled me close and whispered deliciously filthy things against the back of my neck. After he’d worked me up again—this time with nothing more than words—he went about doing all those filthy things, fulfilling the promise of a good time with a good guy who could get seriously dirty in bed. And still after three rounds of the best sex I’d ever had—which still held true in the present—he hadn’t allowed me to leave his hotel room. He’d held me all night long. In the morning, he didn’t rush me out the door. We’d showered together, ate the room service he’d called up, he’d kissed me sweetly, then let me down easy.
Or maybe we’d let each other down easy. Neither of us was in a position to act on our attraction beyond the night we’d given each other. That didn’t mean he didn’t deliver his speech about us staying friends only gently, he did. The problem was he had no idea I’d fallen in love with him. So as gently as he’d let me down, as much as I knew I could never have him the way I wanted, his gentleness had felt like a blow.
One I had yet to recover from.
“Lizzy?” Tucker called.
I blinked away my thoughts and focused.
“Yeah?”
Tucker was looking at me funny. It was then I realized I’d been lost in my thoughts and zoned out.
Damn .
“Sorry. I have a lot on my mind. What’d I miss?”
This of course wasn’t a lie. For the first time in my career, my personal feelings were overlapping with my professional obligations. It was a lot to process. I was also doubting my ability to keep the past in the past and work with Tucker—another first. Not since that very first day fresh out of basic after Carter Lenox Senior had given me a stern talking to did I doubt myself. Doubt turned into hesitation and hesitation could get someone killed. That didn’t mean I wasn’t cautious and careful in the field. It just meant I never put myself in a position where doubt could creep in.
Now doubt was front and center.
“Shannon already sent your cover. Didn’t make it to Dylan before Nick poked holes in it.”
That didn’t sound right. The ATF wasn’t the CIA, but still, they didn’t hand out janky legends that could get an undercover agent killed.
“Poked holes in it?”
“Obviously whoever crafted your cover didn’t take the time to read Nick’s profile,” Trey told me. “An independently wealthy, highly successful businesswoman isn’t going to appeal to Mackenzie Archer. She’s looking for women who have just enough expendable income to pay for her seminars and attend her retreats, but not wealthy. Your cover had you inheriting millions.”
No, that wouldn’t work. Mackenzie wouldn’t be interested in someone flush with cash.
Shit .
“I need to appear hungry,” I stated. “Just a taste of success and looking for a way to increase my wealth.”
“Correct,” Trey affirmed.
“What’s Tucker’s cover?”
Trey smirked.
“Retired.”
I glanced at Tucker, took in the gray at his temples, the strands that dusted the rest of his hair, not to mention his beard, then back to Trey.
Even though he doesn’t look anywhere near retirement age, I played along.
“I can see that.”
“You’re gonna see something,” Tucker mumbled.
“What was that?” Trey snickered.
“Someone’s a little touchy about their age,” I teased.
Tucker raised a brow slowly, a lazy gesture that said exactly what he wanted it to say, so the words he added were superfluous, yet he still smoothly put in, “We can talk about just how touchy I’m feeling, sweetheart.”
Nope.
No thank you .
I wasn’t going to engage because I really, really wanted to engage. I knew from experience if I gave Tucker the go-ahead he’d run with it. The banter would be teasing and fun until it wasn’t. My walls were flimsy at best; a few naughty comments from Tucker would have me forgetting my heart couldn’t take another round.
Moving on.
“How about we stay on track,” I suggested.
Mercifully, Tucker heeded my suggestion and informed me, “I’m going in as a web designer. I need a job that won’t prohibit relocation.”
That made sense.
“I’ll call Sam and tell him he needs to read Nick’s profile and give me a cover surrounding the arts. I can’t draw for shit, but I can throw some paint on a canvas and call it abstract. He can give me an Etsy store, a website, fake awards and reviews. There’s money to be made selling art online. I’m skirting the line of success, making money but hungry for more.”
Trey was staring at me with a look I couldn’t read.
“What?”
“That was Nick’s suggestion, too.”
“And?”
“And, nothing, just impressed the two of you are on the same page. Carter’s suggestion was you were in digital marketing. For the same reason Tucker’s in web design, easy relocation.”
“An artist can paint anywhere and I could sell the idea moving out into the hills of Tennessee would be amazing for my creativity.”
Trey nodded. “Don’t bother calling your people. Nick’s on the phone with them now.”
I clenched my jaw and got another lip twitch from Trey but this one turned into a smile and wowza. That smile ratcheted up the hot guy, GQ male model quota by ten.
“Don’t take offense, it’s just Nick’s way. When shit has to get done, Nick doesn’t fuck about.”
That might’ve been the case, but that didn’t mean I appreciated someone horning in and taking over.
Trey jerked his chin, and smile still in place, bid his farewell, “I’ll see you in the conference room.”
Tucker didn’t waste time making his way to my side, nor did he delay in telling me, “Trey’s wife’s name is Addy.”
My gaze darted away from Trey’s retreating form to Tucker. He looked none too happy I’d been appreciating his friend’s million-dollar smile.
“And?” I challenged.
Tucker ignored my challenge that was really more of a taunt. Though he did skewer me with his gray eyes, which meant he hadn’t missed the challenge or the taunt; he simply chose not to verbalize his comeback. Not that he needed to—his eyes said it all.
And I didn’t know how I felt about that. Not his obvious disapproval at his incorrect assumption I was checking out his friend. I mean, I didn’t miss Trey was gorgeous but that didn’t mean I was going to jump the man and beg him to let me have his babies. But more than that, I was thinking about the mysterious Crystal and how Tucker hadn’t missed my reaction to her call.
I was facing an uncertain amount of time undercover with Tucker Mitchell. An assignment that would have me pretending he was my husband.
If we didn’t get our shit sorted the situation that was already messy would get exponentially mess ier .
Which meant, I had no choice but to have the conversation I didn’t want to have.