There! She sounded darn convincing and defensive on Drew’s behalf. It wasn’t hard to get her hackles up around Sam. “How could I not give him another chance?”
As if Drew would ever really quit the Agency. Still, even playacting as if he had, her voice went involuntarily soft and her eyes got misty.
Sam raised a brow. “So he’s unemployed now?”
Sam would think the worst. Everything was money with him.
Staci stood up straighter. “Of course not! He has a new job.”
“Really?” Sam still sounded as if he was trying to play concerned father looking out for her welfare. “Where? Doing what?”
Staci tried hard not to look wild-eyed and as panicked as she felt. What was up with Sam’s sudden inquisitive nature? Sir Walter Scott had it right about tangled webs and deception. No wonder she hated the spying life. She had absolutely no idea what Drew’s cover job was. She punted. “I’ll let him tell you all about it himself later.”
Sam’s eyes narrowed as if he was suspicious of something. “Does your mother know about this sudden reconciliation of yours?”
“No!” Staci said a little too loudly. Her heart pounded. “No,” she said more quietly. “I haven’t had a chance to tell her yet. As I said, it only just happened. You have to promise me you won’t tell her first. She’ll never forgive me if she isn’t the first to know.”
Sam sighed. “I’m with you there. We don’t want Linda going postal.”
“So you promise?”
“It won’t be easy—”
“Sam!”
He laughed and nodded. “Okay, you have my word.” He looked around again. “Where is Drew? Already working this mystery job?”
“Getting our kitchen window at the house fixed.” The words just slipped out. She could have kicked herself.
“Broken window?” Sam frowned. “What happened?”
Darn, now she was going to have to make something up. She shrugged, noncommittally, thinking frantically. She remembered the bullet buzzing by her head and the sound of the lawn mower next door.
“We’re not sure. The neighbor was mowing.” She hesitated. “We think he threw a rock. I was standing by the pantry when the window shattered. I heard a buzz as something whizzed past me. It hit the pantry door so hard it put a bullet-size hole in it.” She shuddered.
Just then her cell phone rang. Saved by the bell, or in this case, the theme from Get Smart. Her phone was in her purse on the counter. She cut Sam off before he could ask another question. “That’s probably him now.”
She raced to her purse to get it. When she pulled it out and looked, the caller ID registered it was from a restricted number, which might very well be Drew. “Excuse me,” she said to Sam as she answered the call.
“Hey, stranger! You’re a tough one to track down.”
“Mandy?” Staci held up a finger to Sam and pointed toward the stairs, mouthing she’d be right back. “What are you doing calling from a blocked number?”
“I’m at Kelly’s. My cell died. I had to use her landline. She has a blocked number. Some phobia about calling stores and people knowing who she is.”
Staci crossed the room and went to the top of the stairs where she could speak in private.
“I wondered if you want to do dinner and a movie tonight?”
“I’d love to, believe me. But my life got suddenly complicated.” And she was under temporary house arrest. Staci paused. “I have too much going on.” Which was the absolute truth.
“Like what?”
“Like way too much to explain right now. Can we catch up later? My stepdad just stopped by—”
“I’m sure his visit makes your day. What does Sam want?”
Sometimes it was downright impossible to get Mandy off the phone. It took Staci nearly five long, wrenching, uncomfortable minutes of trying to tell as few lies as possible before she managed to extricate herself.
She came back downstairs to find Sam in the kitchen, getting a glass of water.
“Oh, sorry! I should have offered you something.” She frowned. “We’re a little low on supplies.”
“No problem.” Sam smiled. “You want to tell me more about this sudden reconciliation? Are you getting some marriage counseling?” He still looked confused and curious.
“I’d rather give Mom the full scoop first, if you don’t mind.”
Sam took a drink and nodded. “Mothers and daughters.”
Staci smiled back at him. “The less I say, the less you have to keep from her.”
“True, true.” Sam set his glass down on the counter. “Well, I’d better be going then.” He started for the door.
He was halfway there before Staci noticed the box on the table. She gasped. “You can’t leave this!”
If Drew saw the box of his junk and realized she’d disobeyed his orders, he’d be furious, even if it was only Sam she’d let in. She had to live with Drew. There was no use upsetting him any more than necessary.
Sam frowned.
“If you don’t come back with Drew’s stuff, Mom will pepper you with questions about him and us.” She picked up the box and walked toward Sam. “Better you just take this back with you and make some excuse about him being out or something.”
Sam nodded and smiled. “Smart girl. Good thinking. With her interrogation skills, that mother of yours could work for the CIA.” He took the box from her and winked. “Better not to arouse any suspicions. In fact, easiest to just pretend I didn’t have the time to even try to drop by and give this back to Drew today.”
Staci smiled, relieved. “Not a word, remember!”
“Cross my heart.”
She showed him out and closed the door behind him. She leaned her head back against the closed door once he was safely out and on his way. She let out a huge sigh. That was close!
CHAPTER FOUR
Drew noticed the difference the minute he stepped in the condo door, carrying a piping-hot pizza, a cardboard twelve-pack of diet cola, and two reusable shopping bags full of groceries. Ah yes, the musky smell of a recently vacuumed carpet. The clean lines of a clutter-free room. The white-tornado effects of a woman’s touch around the place.
“Looks like the good fairy paid us a visit,” he said.
Staci sat in his recliner with her feet up. She rolled her eyes and snorted. “Good fairy! Yeah, she stopped by, but I had to tell her to beat it. You told me not to let anyone in, remember? This is the result of the sweat of my brow, buddy.” She pushed the footrest down and stood up, coming to the door to take the pizza from him.
“Next time you talk to Em tell him it’s high time his guys at Langley invented a robot to clean up after you guys, and stopped relying on your wives, ex-wives, mistresses, and moms for slave labor.” She inhaled deeply. “Canadian bacon and pineapple?”
He nodded.
She frowned slightly, looking touched and confused for just a second before trying gamely to mask her expression. Yeah, he’d gotten her favorite on purpose. It never hurt to play up to your enemy. Better to have them licking your palm than nipping at your ankles.
She’d changed into a T-shirt with enough spandex to make it formfitting and jeans that showed off her round, pert butt. In the old days, he would have slipped his hands into her back pockets and copped a good feel of that nice little ass of hers as he drew her close. He clenched his fist, trying not to think about curvaceous asses.
Standing in front of him, Staci seemed shorter than usual. Her shoes were off. He’d always marveled at how petite and cute her feet were, even clad in light green socks covered with four-leaf clovers.
He arched a brow and flicked his gaze from her feet to her eyes. “Hoping to get lucky?”
She looked around the room as if weighing her options. “Oh, you mean with you?”
He raised both eyebrows, indicating yes.
She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, playing the flirt. “Would sleeping with you buy me a ticket out of here?”
“No
, but it would be fun.” He couldn’t believe he’d just said that. And halfway meant it. They’d always been phenomenal together in bed.
She made thin eyes at him. “Then, no. I’m merely hoping for enough luck to blow this joint sometime soon.”
“Another hope dashed,” he said and grinned at her.
She turned, walked into the kitchen, and set the pizza on the table as he put the groceries on the counter. She began rummaging through cupboards.
“Plates are in the cabinet on the left,” he told her, chuckling as he pulled a six-pack of beer from one of the bags.
She turned and put the plates on the table, eyeing the groceries. “Are those my reusable bags?”
“Damn! The cherry motif gave me away. I have to learn to be stealthier.” He winked at her. He’d meant to please her.
Instead, she scowled at him. “Just remember to return them. I get them as part of the divorce settlement.”
“Don’t I get half? Isn’t one of them mine?”
“No way. They’re mine, mine, all mine. That cherry pattern’s a classic. You get the plain ones with the grocery store logos on them.”
“And if I protest?”
“Like you want my cherries.”
He arched a brow and shot her a suggestive look. Her fault, she’d stepped into it again. He couldn’t help himself.
“Shut up,” she said. “I’ll argue the plain bags are better for spies like you—less distinctive, call less attention to themselves. Engage me in court in a fight over reusable bags, and your cover’s toast and your secret out.”
“You’re a hard woman.”
She shrugged and opened the pizza box, taking a slice. “How are things at the house?”
“No lurking snipers.”
She sighed. “Pity. The window?”
“Replaced. The house is once again secure for my little wifey.”
She looked ready to throw a can of soda pop at him. “Call me ‘little wifey’ once more and you’re going to need to repair this kitchen window after I throw you through it.”
“Empty promises,” he said.
She ignored him. “The pantry?”
“Door puttied. The glass swept up, and the cookies delivered to Jessica.”
“You gave the cookies to Jessica?”
Her shrill tone startled him. “What? I thought that’s what you’d want. You didn’t want to disappoint her, did you?”
“But what if they have glass in them?” She shuddered, evidently imagining all kinds of glass-swallowing horrors as only she was capable of.
“From what?” he said.
She looked clearly frustrated. “The window! You know—bullet, explosion, flying glass shards?”
“They don’t have glass shards in them or on them.”
“How do you know?” She set her half-eaten slice of pizza down and gave him the you’re such an idiot stare he hated.
“I checked. I ate one and I’m still here,” he said.
She shook her head. “You have a cast-iron stomach. If some kid swallows glass and the police come after us, you’re taking the fall.”
He shrugged. She was such a worrywart. “Emmett will take care of it.” He winked at her and changed the subject as he poured himself a beer and reached for a slice of pizza heavy on the Canadian bacon. “How did your calls go?”
She picked up her pizza. “I didn’t make any calls.”
He’d given her one simple task. One simple task and she didn’t do it. He should have known she’d defy him. He frowned at her, hoping to unnerve her.
She made a sweeping gesture of the room. “Do I look like I had time to make calls?”
“The cleaning could wait.” He paused. Something was bothering her. She looked guilty. If she didn’t always rile him up, he would have picked up on it earlier. “Why didn’t you call anyone?”
She sighed and looked down at the pizza crust in her hand. “I don’t know where you work.”
“What?”
She shrugged. “I had the phone in my hand when I realized I don’t know the cover story. Where do you work? What do you do? How long have you been there?” She sighed. “It seemed safer not to spin lies I might regret.” She paused. “So?”
She made a good point. He should have filled her in before rushing off. She was no good at subterfuge and double talk. He’d been too eager to take off and take out whoever had threatened her. He hadn’t been thinking clearly. That was the problem with being around Staci. He lost his edge. His buddy and fellow spy Ty had the same problem with his wife during their mission in Hawaii.
“I’m the new marketing guru for Hook House Ale. I start tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? On a Friday?” She stared at him.
“What can I say? Their pay week starts on Friday.”
“Hook House,” she said, as if trying to place it. “That’s one of the small breweries near Attitude, isn’t it? If I’m thinking of the right brewery, it’s one of Sam’s favorite lunch places.”
Drew’s heart stopped. Staci was getting a little too close to the reason for his employment there. But he didn’t let anything show on his face.
“And you got the job how?” she said.
“Emmett. He rigged it so I was the most desirable candidate.” He liked teasing her. She was so easy to rile. “The Hook House people think they hired me because of my excellent credentials and glowing references.”
She frowned at him. “But we can’t tell people that, can we? So?”
“Through a connection of mine. Someone you don’t know. No need to say who.”
He watched the wheels of her mind turning. She was wondering how Hook House Ale figured into his mission. She could go on guessing. A little intrigue was good for a relationship. Especially a nearly defunct one.
“So you’ll be traveling when necessary?” she asked.
She caught on quick.
“Yep,” he said.
“Does this new cover job come with a raise or are we still wallowing in poverty?”
He ignored the jibe in her tone. “We have a few extra bucks.”
“Good,” she said. “Until I get a new job, I’m low on funds. I need to take Mom out to lunch and tell her the good news about our reunion. The least you can do is pay.” She paused. “I’ll have to leave the condo.”
He nodded. He couldn’t keep her penned up here forever. If RIOT really wanted her dead, they’d find her. He doubted they’d make an attempt on her in public. “As long as you take precautions and follow orders.”
“Do you know who the shooter is?”
He shook his head. “Not yet.”
Seeing her pale and frightened, he remembered his reason for agreeing to the divorce when she asked for it. It was the only way to keep her safe from the danger he faced daily. And if she didn’t want him, he wasn’t going to force her to stay with him. He wanted his wife to want him.
“I’ll need my car,” Staci said, changing the direction of their conversation. “We should run by the house tonight and get it.”
“I’m on it already. NCS will deliver it here first thing tomorrow morning once the boys finish sweeping it.”
You could never be too careful when someone was trying to kill someone close to you. For all Staci was nearly his ex, the thought of someone trying to take her life made him angry. Another reason he had to get this mission over with. His carefully suppressed feelings threatened to resurface.
“And once it’s safe, what will the boys be installing in my car? Will I have any cool devices like flamethrowers, machine-gun headlights, or an automatic tack dispenser? Or will I pretty much just have a tracking device so you can keep tabs on me?” She looked resigned.
“Pretty much just tracking.”
“At least you’re honest about that.”
Touché!
“I guess I’m stuck bringing my own box of tacks to slow the bad guys down.” She paused. “Do I get my gun? I left it at the house.”
Right, as shaken as she was, he di
dn’t see Staci handling her gun with the respect and restraint required. “I’ll see about it. For now, you get our protection.”
“Great. At least this isn’t a low-budget operation.” She stared at him, looking vulnerable and scared again. “Is it?”
He shrugged.
“Seriously, you’re suddenly okay with me leaving the house?”
“As long as I know your itinerary and you stick to it. No veering off plan. No going to isolated locations.” He grinned at her, trying to reassure her. “No accepting candy from strangers.”
She didn’t laugh. Instead, she tilted her head and studied him. “What do you know about what’s going on?”
Not enough, he thought. And too much.
He had his theories about the shooting, none of them pleasant. But he was convinced she was safe for the moment.
“Look, don’t worry. We’re taking care of things. Now go call Mom and set up lunch. Bring her by the Hook House Ale Café. I’ll give you my employee discount.” He winked at her.
Staci shook her head. “Cheapskate. You just want to keep an eye on me.”
“You always expect the worst of me,” he said, only half feigning disappointment.
Staci stared at him in that unnerving, unblinking way she had. “I always expect you to be working and putting the job first. That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Securing your cover? Introduce the wife around to show you’re just an average, happily married guy. And make sure I don’t screw up at the same time.”
Drew took a deep breath. He clearly had his work cut out for him melding Staci to do his bidding unaware. Good thing he no longer had to pretend to win her back, too. He simply had to resist the urge to strangle her. Or make love to her.
“Hook House makes a mean pale ale ice cream and some very pretty Imperial Stout cupcakes. Your mom loves cake and ice cream. It’s a win–win.” He stood, grabbed the phone from the counter, and held it out to her. “No time like the present.”
* * *
Staci hesitated as she reached for the phone, overwhelmed by a sudden storm of panic over the thought of lying. Successfully. To her mother, of all people.