License to Love (An Agent Ex Novel)

  “We’re here to protect you. Once we’re done with this mission, you’ll be safe again. Until then—”

  “I don’t care, Lani. Those are my terms. Take them or leave them.” He squeezed her hands and stared deeply into her eyes.

  Why did she get the feeling she was almost playing a game of chicken with him? Show no fear or duplicity. She squeezed his hands in return. “Deal. But I’m only doing this to save you from yourself.”

  He held on tightly when she tried to withdraw her hands from his. “You agreed much too quickly,” he said. “Don’t forget. I’m a magician and just as used to fooling people, lying, misdirecting, and pretending as you are. Don’t think because I don’t have a notarized legal document you can get out of this. If you renege on your promise, I’ll talk and damn the consequences.”

  “And be tried for treason,” she retorted just as reasonably.

  “The damage will already be done.” He smiled, suddenly pleasant and released her hands as he settled back in the sofa. “Now, tell me all about the mission, my handler, and my new best friend Tate. And while you’re at it, the details of how you’re going to get Sol to take you on.”

  She slipped off her shoe and pulled a small data card out. “It’s all on here, the entire mission brief and cover dossier.” She held it out to him.

  He took it reluctantly. “You really need a new hiding place.” He stared at the data disk.

  “Study it carefully. You only get one read of it and then the data self-destructs.”

  He looked as if he didn’t believe her. “Like in Mission: Impossible.”

  “Well, yeah. Only the actual disk doesn’t disintegrate or go up in smoke, just the data.”

  “You’re hedging,” he said. “What’s in here that I’m not going to like?”

  She may as well tell him. “I’m going to go to Sol and offer to split your reward money with him if he’ll take me on as his assistant.”

  “My reward money?” His tone was frighteningly neutral and calm.

  “Well, the government will pay it. You won’t be out a thing, but we do have to keep up pretenses.”

  “And then you feed him my illusion secrets?”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  He cocked a brow. “But you publicly humiliate me by reappearing in Sol’s act.”

  She blew out a breath. “I have my orders. My hands are tied.”

  He stared at her. “And what’s the story behind why you didn’t come back to me?”

  She shrugged. “Money. Cowardice. I’m afraid you won’t take me back. Like I said, it’s all in the brief.”

  “I’d rather hear it from you.”

  He was just being obstinate now. “I’m not the storyteller that the Agency cover life developer is. Now he can really spin a tale. Reading his briefs are like reading a best-selling thriller. Believe me—”

  “Lani—”

  “Okay, fine. What do you want to know?”

  “If we’re estranged, how are we going to report to each other and get to know each other, for real, as you like to say? Won’t that involve a lot of sneaking around?”

  Rock wasn’t going to like what she was about to tell him. “That’s where Tate comes in.”

  “Tell me about this agent Tate. Tate who? And why am I going to love him?”

  “Tate Cox.” She waited for his reaction.

  Sure enough Rock’s eyes got big. “The Tate Cox? Software billionaire, son of the former senator, international playboy?”

  She nodded. “The very one.”

  “He’s a spy?” Rock sounded astounded.

  “Yes, and now that you know, if you tell anyone I really will have to kill you.”

  “Is he really a billionaire? Or is that faked?”

  “Oh, yes, he certainly is. And a brilliant spy. There’s only one problem with Tate—he can’t seem to go undercover. Not that his real life isn’t cover enough. It allows him to go anywhere and do just about anything. But if he’s ever found out, he’ll be useless. And for all his spying ability, I’ve always said Tate has more of a James Bond complex than anyone I know. Besides which, he’s hard on cars.”

  She’d done a good job describing Tate. Rock was momentarily diverted.

  And then he set his jaw again, looking as if suspicion was dawning. “Wait a minute—international playboy?”

  “And gambler, with a taste for showgirls.”

  “And magicians’ assistants,” Rock finished for her.

  “Probably, but not in this case,” Lani said, wanting, against reason and logic, to reassure him of her fidelity, in her own warped way. Even now she couldn’t wipe away the desire that coursed through her for Rock. On him, jealousy was incredibly sexy, if inconvenient. “You may not know it, but I’m a master of disguise. I’ll appear as one of Tate’s women whenever I need to go out in public or meet with you.”

  He stared at her. “Is that safe? Someone could recognize you.”

  She shook her head. “I’m talented. Even you won’t recognize me.” She paused, feeling the need to reassure him about Tate.

  “Most women find Tate incredibly hot. I’m not one of them. And, of course, his money and lifestyle only add to his allure. But I’ve known Tate for years. He was married to a friend of mine, as a matter of fact. I know all his dirty laundry. You don’t have to worry about anything real ever developing between Tate and me.”

  She couldn’t tell whether she’d succeeded in reassuring Rock or not. His jaw was still set and his eyes steely. But that was only a diversionary tactic. He slid next to her, grabbed her head between his hands, and kissed her.

  She was so startled, she didn’t move. This was the second time he’d kissed her, but this time was different than the first—gentler, more seductive, loving. It took her a moment to remember she was supposed to pull away.

  He broke the kiss, keeping his lips only inches from hers so as he spoke it was almost as if he were breathing his words into her. The look in his eyes was hypnotic and dangerous to her common sense. “I’ve missed you. There’s been no one else since you. Spend the night with me. My bed’s much more comfortable than the one in the guest room. Just because you’re going to be Tate’s girl tomorrow, doesn’t mean you can’t be my wife tonight.”

  Her heart stopped. She reached up and gently pulled his hands from her cheeks and clasped them in hers between them. She couldn’t sleep with him. Not yet. Not until she was certain she wouldn’t give her secret away.

  She shook her head. “It’s too soon, Rock.” She kissed his hands. “Give yourself some time to get to know the real me first.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Get to know the real her?

  Rock knew the real her, or at least the woman Lani was pretending to be, well enough to know he wanted to make love to her. The old Lani would have taken him by the hand and led him to the bed. So what was up with this “real” Lani?

  She had to have a reason to be keeping him at arm’s length when at least one thing was certain—the air between them fairly crackled with desire. But he wasn’t going to force her so he ended up spending the night alone.

  Thinking about all that had happened and Lani sleeping alone in the room next to him had made for a restless night. Accessible after all this time, but not available. She probably slept with her gun beneath her pillow. He had a lot of magic up his sleeve, magic he’d like to show her, but stopping a speeding bullet? The bullet-catch was just a parlor trick. He was defenseless against the real thing.

  But not against the machinations of NCS. Did they really think he was going to quietly endure the humiliation of handing over one hundred thousand dollars to Sol Blackledge, even if the money wasn’t really his? And watch Sol pull Lani out of his hat, upstaging Rock? Or idle in the background while Lani put her life on the line?

  As for Lani and her little secret, last night after Lani had gone to bed, Rock had texted Davo, the PI who’d been working for him trying to find Lani the last two years. Despite Davo’s lack of succes
s in locating Lani, Rock had faith he could get this job done. If anyone could. It was hard to go up against the resources of the CIA. Rock gave Davo Lani’s real last name and instructions to find out what she’d been up to since she disappeared. If she was hiding something from him, Davo would find it.

  As for that mission brief, Rock had read through it. He’d never performed Outlandish Marauders partly because the technology he needed wasn’t yet up to the task. Or so he’d thought. NCS, however, had a few things up their sleeves that the public knew nothing about. Now Rock was itching to get busy working on the performance.

  Right now, though, Rock needed coffee. He slid out of bed, ran a brush through his hair, checked his messages—a confirmation from Davo that he’d start digging—and threw on a pair of pants before heading downstairs.

  The door to the guest room was open, the room empty as he walked by. It looked as pristine as if no one had slept there for years. Lani was already gone, as he’d known she would be. She couldn’t face him in the harsh reality of a sunny morning in Vegas. Rock cursed to himself as he headed downstairs to the kitchen.

  He stopped short in the kitchen doorway. A large man, powerfully built, with dark hair and caramel-colored skin, who looked like he could have been a tight end in a not-too-distant life, sat at the island, sipping a steaming mug of coffee and working a crossword puzzle. A gray plastic case, a gun case, sat on the counter in front of him. “What’s a six-letter word for stir that starts with P?”

  Next to him a latte-skinned beauty dressed in a tight, bright orange halter top nibbled on a piece of toast. As she rolled her eyes upward in thought searching for the answer, she looked familiar to Rock.

  Halle Berry, Rock thought. With her short, spiky hair, smoky eyes, and high cheekbones, she reminded Rock of the popular actress.

  “Pother,” Rock said before she could answer. “P-O-T-H-E-R.”

  The man looked up and stared at Rock with startlingly blue eyes, making no move for the gun. “Morning, sleepyhead. Evidently early to rise isn’t part of your act.” He filled in the answer.

  “Who the hell are you two and how did you get in here?” Rock wondered whether he should be afraid. Was this guy and his lady friend, friend or foe? Friend was a bit of a misnomer. So far no one in the Agency, who were all supposedly on his side, had been overly warm and cozy. Lani in particular.

  Now that he was dealing with spies and enemy agents, Rock should have thought to keep a few weapons handy. For situations like this where people broke into his kitchen to do a crossword puzzle. What had happened to the Agency’s new top-notch security system? Had it failed already? These spooks really were like ghosts—they walked through walls. Maybe what he really needed was a proton pack and a containment unit.

  The guy laughed. “And here I thought you were expecting me.” He shook his head as if amused. “I’m your handler.”

  The woman laughed. “Calm down, Rock. I let Tal in. He knew the code word of the day. And unlike some people, I recognize my colleagues and friends.”

  Rock froze. He fought to keep his mouth from falling open. How in the world had he not recognized Lani? Damn, she was good with disguises. And she’d gotten him good.

  “Klaatu barada nikto.” Rock’s uninvited guest grinned. “Satisfied?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Rock said, still trying not to gawk at Lani, and recover his dignity. Now that he studied her, of course it was her. The mission brief Lani had given him last night had instructed him to wait for those magic words that would identify his handler as the real deal. “I guess this means you want me to save the world now. But I was hoping for à la peanut butter sandwiches. It has more pizzazz.”

  “I prefer Walla Walla, Washington. But you’re the showman. You know best. I’ll recommend the Amazing Mumford’s line for next time.” Tal waved Rock over. “Don’t just stand there lurking in doorways. Come on in and join us. Have a cup of coffee. If you can’t even recognize your wife, you must need one desperately.”

  Damn. Rock was never going to hear the end of this and there was no defense.

  Tal turned to Lani. “You really did a number on the poor guy last night.”

  Not as much as Rock would have liked. Or maybe he should say, not the number he’d been dreaming of.

  Lani smiled. “Me? I think it was being shot at in the alley that did him in.”

  “I did just great in the alley.” Rock approached the kitchen counter and put a cup pack in his single-cup coffee machine, yawning as his coffee brewed.

  “I’ll vouch for that,” Lani said. “That flash powder saved our lives. Rock assures me he’s even more lethal with sparkle powder.” She winked.

  Cruel woman.

  Tal laughed. “Sparkle powder, eh? We have our work cut out for us.”

  “Sparkle powder is highly effective in the right illusion.” Rock grabbed his coffee and changed the subject. “What should I call you? Tal?”

  His handler shrugged. “Whatever you like. I answer to almost anything.”

  Rock pulled his coffee cup from the machine, and arched a brow. “Anything?”

  “Don’t get any wiseass ideas. Tal will do. Short for talent because I handle the talent.”

  Rock grabbed a Danish to go with his coffee, even though he’d pay for the pleasure at the gym, and pulled up a stool across from Tal and Lani. “So what’s the plan? When do I get my spy trench coat, my top-secret gadgets, and learn the secret handshake, the dead drop, and the move that can kill a man with a single karate chop?”

  “Vegas spies don’t wear trench coats. Too damn hot for that. The rest’s advanced stuff.” Tal took a sip of his coffee. “Let’s start with the basics, spycraft one-oh-one.” He shoved the hard shell gun case toward Rock. “Know how to use a firearm?”

  “He shoots blanks in his act,” Lani said, still teasing and obviously amused, and smug, that he’d mistaken her for a stranger.

  Rock gave her a hard, deadpan stare, and said to Tal, “Just blanks, like the wife says.” Tease him and he was going to fight back. She bristled as he called her the wife.

  “Not the same thing. Top priority—get you to the firing range. Not that I’m real eager to let you loose on the unsuspecting public.” He studied Rock, who was shirtless. “You’re in shape.”

  Rock should say so. He worked hard to maintain his six-pack.

  “He has lovely abs.” Lani ran her gaze slowly down his body, obviously trying to get a rise out of him.

  And succeeding.

  “You have an edgy style.” Tal sounded distinctly less than impressed. “You like to look tough.”

  He probably meant Rock’s tattoos. His big, heavy silver rings. The chains Rock liked to wear in his act. “It’s my stage persona.”

  “Can you fight?”

  “I don’t have to. I travel with bodyguards when necessary. And if that fails, I know how to disappear.”

  Tal cocked a brow. “Showbiz bastards. Don’t want your pretty show face ruined by getting your hands dirty! You think you walk on water.”

  “You haven’t seen my act—I do walk on water.”

  Tal laughed. “Very good. But RIOT knows how to disable bodyguards. And magic tricks.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a silver ring, and handed it to Rock.

  Rock took it reluctantly. When he saw what it was, his eyes went big. “This is a replica of mine.” He flashed a look at Lani. She’d given him the original as a birthday present when they were together. Had that been a setup, too?

  She nonchalantly took another bite of toast.

  Rock pulled a ring off his right pointer finger and held it next to the new one for comparison, unsure whether he should be angry or flattered. “You were expecting me to say yes to this mission.”

  “We know our subjects. We are in the intelligence business. We don’t gamble unless we’re confident we can win. There was no doubt you’d agree.”

  Rock looked at Lani again, but she’d turned to stare out the window as if avoiding him.

  R
ock turned the ring over in his hand, examining it as he hefted it. “Heavier than mine. Nice. It has a secret compartment, maybe two. They’re cleverly concealed.” He smiled at his handler. “You’ve given me a spy ring. What does it do?”

  “Tracks you.”

  “That’s not very flattering.”

  Lani turned from the window and smiled sweetly at him. “We need to know where you are in case you get into trouble.”

  “It has other features, too,” Tal said, interrupting before Rock could reply. “A panic button. If you need us, you press right here.” Tal showed Rock. “This will put a call in to us and we’ll come running. Use it sparingly. Don’t cry wolf. We don’t appreciate that game.”

  “I’m not a coward.”

  “That remains to be seen.” Tal took the ring back and held it up for Rock to see. “It has one more special feature. See here? Alakazam!” He pressed a ridge on the ring, twisted something, pressed again in a rapid series of movements. A miniature, gleaming razor blade popped up.

  “A weapon? It’s not quite a death ray, but it’ll give someone a hell of a scratch.”

  “Ye of little faith. This is a murder weapon. Think like a spy.” Tal held the ring up to the ray of sunshine streaming into the kitchen, catching the light so the ring gleamed. “Surgical steel. As sharp as a scalpel. And tipped with one of the fastest-acting, most deadly poisons in the world. Handle this with care.”

  He performed the sequence of movements again and the blade retracted. “There’s enough poison for one swipe, maybe two. Three if you’re real lucky and precise. It looks easy, but the sequence must be performed exactingly. We don’t want the blade accidentally popping out at the wrong moment.”

  He handed the ring back to Rock. “I assume a man with your sleight-of-hand skills can manage it. It won’t be easy to do while you’re fighting for your life. And, of course, it only works in hand-to-hand combat, which can be a disadvantage.”

  Rock nodded, still marveling at the ring.

  Tal pulled one more thing from his pocket. “Your new magician’s secret utility device.”

  Rock laughed as he recognized the device and reached for it. “A new rubber thumb. Just what I always wanted.”