Chapter 29 #2
The suite’s door opened. Her gaze automatically darted that way even as she kept her hand on Logan’s cheek.
Ryan frowned as he stood on the threshold, clutching a white bag. “I know I shouldn’t be jealous…” he began.
Logan stepped away from her.
Her hand slid to her side. Her gaze had slipped down and just gotten fixated on the bag. A bakery?
“I know she loves you like a brother. I’m just an asshole, that’s all.” Ryan exhaled on a rough sigh. “I will work on the jealousy. It’s on my to-do list.”
“You want to take another swing at me, don’t you?” Logan asked.
Her attention shifted away from the bag and back to Ryan’s face. His slow smile was the answer to Logan’s question.
“Do it,” Logan invited.
“Trying to make that guilt you feel go away, huh? Me beating the hell out of you won’t make you feel better.
But, just so we are clear.” Ryan’s smile fled.
“You ever fucking put Simone in danger that way again, and you won’t need to worry about me taking a swing at you.
I’ll bury your ass. No one will ever find you.
When I want to make someone vanish, they vanish.
It’s a fun CIA trick.” His stare swept toward Simone. “Hello, sweetheart.”
“Hi,” she whispered.
“Konstantin has been handled,” he said, and she could imagine what sort of “handling” the CIA had done with the criminal mastermind. Probably the kind that meant he would vanish into a black site for the rest of his days.
A shiver skated down her spine.
“And I brought you a present.” Ryan walked right past Logan. He lifted the bag toward Simone.
She could smell the goodness teasing her. “Tell me there is some wonderful, freshly baked bread in that bag.”
“There is some wonderful, freshly baked bread in this bag.”
She snatched it from him. “I love you so much.”
“I know.” His dark eyes gleamed at her.
And Logan slipped quietly away.
But Logan didn’t get to slip far. Because as soon as he stepped into the hallway beyond the suite…
“Hello, there.” Jezebel leaned causally against the wall that was mere steps away from Simone’s new suite. “Fancy meeting you here.”
He tensed. He and Jezebel had crossed paths a few times, and none of those instances had ever been what he’d call positive experiences.
“Someone looks guilty as hell.” She whistled. “Hate that for you.”
He looked guilty as hell because he was guilty. “I put Simone in danger. I nearly got her killed.” How could he ever atone for that? Simone had trusted him, and he’d let her down. Betrayed her.
“Um, but you didn’t get her killed, did you? She’s safe, and, unless I miss my guess, she’s about to convince my best agent that they should run away together and start some amazing new life.” She pointed toward the closed suite door.
He glanced back. He’d seen the way Simone looked at Ryan. As for how Ryan looked at Simone…
Yeah, Jezebel was not wrong. He hoped like hell that Simone got the most amazing life ever.
“Hate to lose a good agent,” Jezebel mused. “Especially with such a big case coming up. Good thing I have you. You’re going to be such a perfect secret weapon for me.”
Wait—what? He shook his head. Maybe he was still feeling a bit dazed from the flashbang stun grenade. Disoriented. Because surely this woman with the fancy pearl earrings and the deadly gaze had not just called him a secret weapon. Nah. No way.
“I do have you,” she emphasized. “Granted, I’m also planning on getting out of the biz soon, but I want to go out with a bang, if you know what I mean.”
“I one hundred percent do not.”
Jezebel merely smiled. “Walk with me.”
He’d prefer not to do that. “I am planning to leave the country. I have someone important that I need to see back in the States.” Nana’s dementia had gotten so much worse over the last few years.
Sometimes, she knew who he was. Sometimes, she thought he was his father. Sometimes, she did not know him at all.
But he always knew her. The woman who’d loved him. Who’d saved him. And he had to make sure she was safe. He would be getting new guards for her. Making damn sure she had far, far better security. He would never let her be jeopardized again.
“You know that CIA operatives saved your grandmother, don’t you?”
Fuck. He began to walk with Jezebel. After all…I owe her.
“I believe in a reciprocal relationship. I help you, you help me.” Jezebel stopped in front of the elevator. “You want to help me, don’t you, Logan?”
“Hell.”
“Excellent choice.” She pushed the button on the small panel near the elevator.
“And if you’re really feeling guilty, do consider this your way to atone.
You can assist in making the world a better place.
A safer place. You can get rid of some seriously bad guys and help shield a member of my team at the same time. ”
A member of her team?
The elevator doors opened. He stepped inside with her. A moment later, they were descending.
“The CIA operative you are shielding will be undercover. The operative will need complete access to all areas of your life. You’ll need to stay close to the agent, twenty-four, seven.”
Sounded like a total and complete pain in his ass.
But Jezebel was not done. “It’s going to be dangerous. The mission will be intense. You could die.” Jezebel slanted a glance his way. “You understand the risks?”
“You are really selling this thing, aren’t you?” The CIA had saved his grandmother. Fuck, yes, he would pay them back.
“I’m sort of required to do that. Don’t want you coming to me later, riddled with bullets, and being all…’Oh, I had no idea I could potentially die.’”
He stared at her.
She did not blink.
But he was pretty sure she’d just made a joke. Or maybe not. Maybe it had been a threat. “What do I have to do?”
The elevator stopped. They’d only gone down two floors. The doors opened.
A gorgeous brunette stepped onto the elevator. Her hair skimmed her shoulders. And when her head turned a little and the overhead light slid over her, Logan caught the hint of red buried in the darkness of her hair.
She sent him a considering stare. Her golden gaze lingered on the bandage that covered his cheek. Then she quirked a brow, as if waiting.
Waiting for what?
The elevator doors closed once more.
“Logan Sterling,” Jezebel murmured. “This is Charlotte Webb. She’s going to be your new personal assistant. At least, that’s the job title you’ll give her. Really, though, she’ll be your shadow, your bodyguard, your twenty-four, seven companion.”
“What?” The elevator descended.
Face serious, Charlotte told him, “I will do my best to ensure that you survive the mission.”
Hell.