Chapter 10
Hadley had taken one look at Cole the day he moved into the house across the street and known—just known, in her bones…
or her loins, she supposed—that he was somebody.
The way he moved like a predator and surveyed his surroundings like he was generating tactical maps in his head were dead giveaways that he wasn’t a typical dude bro.
But even knowing all that, finding out he was some kind of retired super spy was a bit of a shock.
She’d never known that spies could retire, especially at such a young age. Although, she was willing to admit everything she knew about spies came from the TV show Burn Notice. James Bond had never been her thing. Neither had the Mission Impossible movies.
But being a Burn Notice fan didn’t qualify her to do spy stuff with Cole.
So, the fact that this dickwad was blackmailing Cole into some kind of mission with her pissed her off on his behalf.
It couldn’t possibly be good for him to get stuck with an untrained operative in, well, any spy-ish situation, right?
And while she was thinking about it, why wasn’t she more worried about herself?
Maybe she was in shock. That would make sense, wouldn’t it?
It had been an epically shitty night. Her heart rate kicked up as memories assailed her.
Rough hands grabbing at her, fear rising off her skin like steam, life (such as it was) flashing before her eyes…
Cole gave her pinky a tug with his. “Hey,” he said quietly, “you good?”
She blinked back tears. Opened her mouth to answer, but no sound came out.
“It’s OK. Breathe in through your nose, out through your mouth, deep and slow.” He demonstrated it for her. She did as she was told and after a moment, would admit she did feel a little better. Breathing with purpose to stave off a panic attack…who knew?
“Aw,” Franklin said, hand over his heart. “See? This is going to work out perfectly. You’re already acting like husband and wife.”
Record scratch.
Husband and what now?
“I have intel suggesting there’s a Russian sleeper agent in the Creighton Heights neighborhood in Danville.
I have an idea who it is, but I’m not divulging that.
Wouldn’t want my operatives to go in with preconceived notions and biases.
What I need is eyes on the ground. You two will infiltrate the neighborhood, posing as a happily married couple, conduct surveillance, and get me proof of who the agent is. ”
Cole frowned. “Why bring me out of retirement for something like this? My specialty was bringing down terrorists. I suck at fitting in with normal people. You know that. You’d be better off bringing in a current operative who is, I don’t know, sociable.”
A valid question, Hadley thought. Cole did not seem like the kind of spy who’d easily fit in amongst the accountants, lawyers, and finance bros who lived in the posh Creighton Heights neighborhood.
Franklin shifted in his seat. “This is completely off books.”
Cole snorted. “Meaning you’ve gone rogue.
You’re following a hunch, your boss told you to let it go, and you don’t want to.
Probably because you’re gunning for a promotion and ferreting out something high profile is the only way you’ll ever get it.
Fine. Whatever. I don’t give a shit. I’ll do it.
But not with her. Let her go, no fake charges, no strings attached, and I’ll get you the intel you need. ”
Franklin shook his head. “Doesn’t work that way. A single guy moving into the neighborhood isn’t going to be accepted as quickly as a family man.”
“Then send me in with a freelancer,” he said through clenched teeth. “Anyone other than her.”
Hadley knew he was just trying to protect her. So, she wasn’t insulted by the anyone in that sentence. What did irk her was the thought of some other woman pretending to be Cole’s wife.
She’d probably be some gorgeous, fit, badass operative, too.
Like Angelina Jolie in Salt. She’d bat her big, perfectly made-up eyes at Cole as they walked into their pretend house and pretend life, and she’d be stuck going back to her real life, which was boring as fuck, and she’d probably never see Cole again.
“I’ll do it.”
She’d said the words (even though some distant part of her brain reminded her that being in forced proximity with Cole, pretending to be his wife, was a stellar way to fall for him against her will), but they’d squeaked out so quietly that neither man heard her.
Franklin glowered at Cole. “There’s no way I’m trusting a freelancer with this.”
Cole snorted. “But you’d trust a woman with no experience, no training.”
“I’d trust this woman since her life is in my hands.”
Hadley cleared her throat. “I said, I’ll do it.”
Again, they ignored her. Hadley wondered if the intensity of Cole’s glare impacted his hearing. “You’re going to get her killed,” he spat at Franklin.
Franklin leaned forward, leveling Cole with a pretty intense glare of his own. “Not if you do your job.”
“I could always break your fucking neck. Problem solved.”
Franklin paled a smidge but held his ground.
“Anything happens to me, my account of what went down tonight goes to leadership. And since the only other witnesses were freelancers I hired and paid for, they’ll back up my version of events.
Then, your retirement agreement goes bye-bye.
You’ll end up in that pit in Guantanamo after all.
” Then, he added dryly, “Problem solved.”
OK, this was getting ridiculous. These two idiots were a few insults away from whipping their dicks out on the table for a measuring contest. And she was not going to hold the tape measure for that nonsense. “I’ll do it.”
“It’d be worth it,” Cole muttered darkly.
“Don’t be such a drama queen,” Franklin scoffed. “It’s one fucking job. Get in, get out. It’s simple.”
“It’s never that simple. I’m not going to—”
Hadley swung her leg up and kicked the bottom of the table, making both men startle.
Good. They deserved the jump scare. “I said I’ll do it.
Jesus, you two talk a lot.” She turned her attention to Cole.
“Look, you’ve saved me twice now. I’m not going to let you end up in Guantanamo.
So, I’ll do this job. Whatever it takes, OK? ”
“That’s the spirit!” Franklin said, crossing his arms over his chest. “At least one of you has some sense.”
Cole caught her eye again, and…phew. The way he was looking at her—all flashing eyes and clenched jaw—was unbearably hot. Pretending to be his wife would not be a hardship.
Unless there were rules about fraternization among spies. Shit. She probably should’ve asked that. But this was an off-the-books operation. And she was a novice. She could plausibly claim ignorance if she just so happened to trip and fall over the line between fake husband and real husband, right?
Inwardly, she snorted. She should be so lucky. The last time she thought she was having a moment with this man, he’d run away from her. Literally.
“You don’t have to. I’ll get you out of this. I promise,” he said.
She believed him. Truly, she did. She’d never had anyone promise her anything as sincerely as he just had. And she’d seen him kill, for her, with her own two eyes. The real question at this point was…did she want him to get her out of this?
The answer was no as it turned out. Because she barely paused to take a breath before she said, “I want to help.”
He looked horrified and relieved and something she couldn’t quite identify all at the same time. The first two made sense. The third, though, was a little puzzling. What else could he possibly be feeling about this?
She kept her mouth shut. Partly because she wasn’t sure what to say. But mostly because she was terrified of embarrassing herself. Again. Which brought another question to mind.
If she couldn’t make it through this conversation without embarrassing herself, how in the name of Lucifer’s bouncing balls was she going to survive living with him and pretending to be his wife in front of strangers who may or may not be international criminals?
Guess there was only one way to find out…