Live and Let Love

  Lettie ignored it. “Do you have any Mafia connections?”

  “I have a distant cousin in the porn industry in LA.”

  Lettie’s eyes narrowed. “But he doesn’t off people who disagree with him?”

  Aldo looked confused. “No.”

  “Then, yes, I’m disagreeing. I’m not calling your granny a liar. I’m just saying, at her age it’s easy to be mistaken.

  “You have to throw this imposter out, Aldo. Kick him right out of that guesthouse of yours and boot him out of town. You can’t harbor a fugitive.”

  “Fugitive? Who are you calling a fugitive? Someone in my family? You’d better take that back, Lettie, or no meatballs for you. Not ever again.” Aldo crossed his arms and glared at the ladies.

  “Slow down, everyone. Let’s not get carried away. All we have to go on so far is malicious, unfounded gossip.” Willow had to stop this lynch mob, but if they wouldn’t listen to Aldo’s grandma, whom would they listen to?

  Although, privately, she had to admit she didn’t believe Aldo’s nonna, either. There was no way Con Russo was real, not if he was Jack. But Jack may have assumed Con’s identity. Still, she wasn’t going to let these women scare the fake Con, if that’s what he was, away. At least not until she knew for sure whether he was Jack or not.

  Lettie crossed her arms, too. “I will not take that back. It’s the truth.”

  “And I will not stand for someone calling Nonna a liar. And I will not throw my cousin out based on idle gossip. Salemos stand by and protect the family,” Aldo said.

  “And I will not stand for the town interfering in my personal life. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself. So far, Con’s done nothing wrong and nothing more than accept my dinner invitation and prove himself to be a charming dinner companion.

  “Now, let’s eat caramel.” Willow waved to Shiloh. “Bring out a tray of samples.

  “The rest of you clear a path so I can get behind the counter. I expect you’re all here to buy candy.” She gave them her piercing, fierce stare, the one she hardly ever used.

  Just then her cell rang. She pulled it out of her apron pocket. “Ada?”

  “Thank goodness I caught you,” Ada said. “Have you heard about Con Russo? He’s a fake and a bigamist, a wanted felon who has wives in five states. I should call the cops, but I wanted to talk to you first.

  “He was just in. Don’t worry, I sent him packing. Any man who’d mess with you is not welcome here. Of course, I sold him a coffee first. Profit is profit.

  “So, should I call the FBI?”

  “Not you, too,” Willow said, heart pounding. “No, you should not call the FBI. I thought you had better sense than to listen to these horrible rumors. Where did you send him?”

  Willow crossed her fingers. Please don’t let him leave town.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “I’m sorry, Willow. The DNA doesn’t match. Despite his uncanny resemblance, your friend Con isn’t Jack.” Drew Fields stared at Willow through his computer screen as he Skyped with her. He’d disabled monitoring software before giving Willow the news. And, of course, Willow had had her house swept. They could all speak freely. Staci sat beside him, holding his hand and shooting Willow sympathetic looks.

  Drew looked as broken up as Willow felt. “No! That can’t be true. He is Jack. He is. He has to be. I had dinner with him last night. He tells stories like Jack. He … he’s Jack.”

  It was a good thing Willow was already sitting down; otherwise she’d have collapsed with shock. This couldn’t be true. All day long she’d been defending him, protecting him, sending him texts, direct messages on social media, and trying to get to Aldo’s to warn him. But the town seemed to be conspiring to keep her from physically reaching Jack. “There has to be a mistake—”

  “DNA doesn’t lie.” Drew’s tone was soft and sympathetic. “My guy checked it twice.”

  “The sample—”

  “The sample was fine, Willow,” Drew said. “More than fine, excellent. There’s no mistake. The DNA on that drinking glass doesn’t belong to Jack.”

  Drew’s phrasing sparked a thought. That sneaky rascal Jack. What if he’d somehow tampered with the sample?

  Willow squinted and stared back at Drew and Staci. “Who does that sample belong to?”

  “A male of Italian descent,” Drew said. “Dark haired, healthy. Marker for marker it basically matches your description of Con.”

  Willow balled her fists. Oh, that man was good!

  “Is there any way Jack or someone inside the Agency could have tampered with the sample? This sounds like a classic Emmett smoke-and-mirrors trick.”

  “Willow, I think you’re in denial, hon.” Staci looked genuinely sad for Willow. “Don’t hang on to false hope. I wish Jack was still alive almost as much as you do. But let this go.”

  Drew squeezed Staci’s hand. Willow was observant. She saw him tense. “My man is outside the Agency. Dependable, loyal. He owes me his life. I trust him. He can’t be bought off.

  “The Agency, however, is damn good. But we were all careful. The odds of them getting to this sample are slim to none, Willow.”

  “Jack could have done it. I don’t know how, but if Jack has been faking his death for two years, I wouldn’t put anything past him,” Willow said.

  “The package arrived undisturbed, the seal unbroken, our coded message inside, all of our precautions and verifications intact. My guy was on the alert for any tampering.”

  Willow took a deep breath to ward off tears. She couldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t believe it. She wouldn’t let Jack go. Not again.

  “Is there any way you can do some discreet inquiring within the Agency? Something low-key and beneath Emmett’s notice.”

  Drew looked as if he was about to refuse.

  Willow cut him off before he could speak. “I know it’s a lot to ask. You know I wouldn’t if it weren’t so important.”

  “If I ask about Jack, flags will immediately go up,” Drew said.

  “So don’t ask about Jack. Dig around and see if the Agency has any reason to be in Orchard Bluff. If Jack is in town, there’s a reason.”

  Drew pursed his lips. “I’ll do what I can. No promises, Willow.”

  “No promises, I understand completely.” And she did. She understood how much Drew’s career meant to him and knew the risk he was taking for her. But like her, Drew would do anything he could to bring Jack back. Drew had been Jack’s best friend. It was the trump card she held over Drew and she half-hated herself for using it, but she didn’t see any other option.

  “You know that if I do find out anything sensitive, and all our stuff is sensitive and top secret, I won’t be able to give you any details. The most I’ll be able to do is say the Agency has an interest in the area.”

  “I know. Thank you, Drew.”

  He looked embarrassed by her heartfelt thanks. He shrugged.

  “Just don’t hold on to such a slim hope, Willow. I’m concerned about you, that you’re still in total denial. Damn that Sense of yours.” He gave her a crooked grin.

  She grinned back in return. “It’s never wrong.”

  He shook his head and became solemn. “Seriously, I’m concerned. If DNA evidence from Con himself won’t convince you, nothing will. When will you give up?”

  Never.

  Which she didn’t say aloud. She didn’t have to. Drew caught her expression and sighed.

  “Hope springs eternal,” she said. “Staci, how’s your mom doing?”

  “If you’re going to start gossiping and engaging in girl talk, I’m out of here.” Drew shook his head and stood to leave.

  “Bye, Drew. Thanks!” Willow watched him walk away.

  “Mom’s spending Sam’s money and doing surprisingly well. She still doesn’t suspect a thing.…”

  Staci’s mom had unknowingly been married to a traitor who was selling national security secrets to a dangerous terrorist group. Willow, of course, didn’t know all the details. Just t
hat it had been Drew’s mission to capture Staci’s stepfather, Sam.

  Somehow Sam had been blown up while on a “fishing trip” at Victoria Harbor. Well, of course Drew was involved. Even more interestingly, that mission had saved Drew and Staci’s marriage. They were just days away from signing the final divorce papers when Drew got the assignment.

  The spying life was notoriously hard on marriages. Yet somehow the Agency had a low to nonexistent divorce rate. Odd, but love was fickle. And the chief, Emmett Nelson, was a master manipulator. Willow always thought he somehow had a hand in the high rate of marriage survival.

  Rumors in the Agency had been circulating for as long as Willow had been married to Jack that Emmett’s own marriage had failed years ago. Though it was hard to picture the kind of woman who would dare marry Emmett. It sparked the imagination, that’s for sure. Emmett never talked about her or the marriage. And all the records had been sealed.

  If Willow could uncover any intel on Emmett’s defunct marriage, she’d have power over him. Immense power. Enough to get him to help her discover if Con was really Jack. Which, of course, he was. He had to be.

  However, daydreaming about blackmailing Emmett into helping her was futile.

  Willow chatted with Staci for another half hour and signed off feeling amazingly cheered, given the news she’d just received. She was determined, absolutely determined.

  The Sense was not wrong and neither was she. Con was Jack. He had to be. And she was resolved to prove it.

  Jack had left her no alternative. She mentally shrugged. She had to sleep with Con. Tonight.

  Before Orchard Bluff ran him out on a rail or in an applecart, whichever was handier.

  Jack couldn’t lie to her with his lovemaking. Of that she was certain—he had that telltale chuff, that almost purr.

  And sleeping with Jack, or even Con, would be no hardship. None at all. Not sleeping with Con, though, was simply hideous torture. Every part of her being ached for him and his touch. Some parts of her more than others.

  She’d have to be sneaky to outwit and outplay the people of Orchard Bluff who’d been trying to keep her from Con all day. Somehow they’d organized and been taking shifts to make sure she didn’t get near Con.

  She’d barely had a spare minute since she opened the shop. The one time she’d tried to sneak out and over to Aldo’s, Sheryl had intercepted her and scooped her right back into the store.

  Even now, if she looked out her bedroom window she was sure she’d see a shadowy figure keeping watch. She was under surveillance.

  But no one, absolutely no one, could keep her from Jack. She hadn’t been married to a spy for nothing. She could operate covertly when the need arose.

  She mentally mapped out a plan. She’d sneak out the back way, head to Aldo’s guesthouse on foot, and take a shortcut so none of the good people of Orchard Bluff intercepted and deflected her the way they’d been doing all day.

  She’d dress in camo. No, not Jack’s old camo. Night camo. Black jeans, sexy black boots that came to her knees. She had a pair Jack had given her before his last mission—shiny, stiletto heels that laced up the front and back, lined with downy fur that ran up the lacing. Jack once told her no hetero man on the planet could resist a woman wearing those boots.

  She was going to make Jack put his money where his mouth was.

  She’d put on a black button-up blouse, black lace thong panties, sexy bra to match. Black trench coat. Black gloves. Jack loved her in sexy black.

  Put on dark makeup—smoky eyes, pouty lips, and seductive perfume.

  Yesterday, she’d tried to torment Jack into revealing himself by feeding him everything he detested and wearing see-through white to tempt him into a tryst. Tonight, black was her friend. Jack had a fantasy he’d always wanted her to enact where she played an enemy agent out to seduce him. It was time he got his wish.

  * * *

  As he finished his nightly weight-lifting routine in the guesthouse, Jack cursed the Rooster for making his life and job infinitely harder. And turning the town against him. And preventing him from going to a real gym.

  Jack made a muscle and frowned. Not bad, but he feared he was getting soft.

  The good people of Orchard Bluff wanted to run him out. Aldo had defended him and insisted he stay as long as he liked and finish out his vacation. But Jack’s days in Orchard Bluff, dead or alive, were definitely numbered. And with the controversy surrounding Con it hardly seemed like staying was going to help reduce Jack’s stress level.

  He had to kill Kennett and get the hell out of Orchard Bluff before he lost his mind and did something foolish with Willow, like chuffing his brains out and blowing his cover. Or someone, namely the Rooster, “accidentally” mistook him for a deer and took him out in much the same way he’d been planning to kill the Rooster with his newspaper crossbow. Still hadn’t gotten a decent shot. The citizens of Orchard Bluff were watching him too closely.

  Much as Jack loved Willow, he was no good for her. She’d never understand his lifestyle or condone it. She’d really never forgive him for killing Kennett, especially because Jack could never reveal the evil, villainous bastard Kennett was. Top-secret intel was a pain in the butt sometimes. And a definite impediment to love.

  Jack had a plan, a big plan that would go boom in the night.

  Tonight, Jack had a little prep work to do. A bit of surveillance, if he could escape the prying eyes of every apple grower from here to the Canadian border.

  Evil will appear good and good will appear evil, he thought. And that was never truer than now. Kennett had the people of Orchard Bluff snowed good and well.

  Shirtless, Jack slipped into a pair of black jeans. Put on his thick wool surveillance socks and black army boots. He rubbed eye black cream beneath his eyes and was scrounging around for a shirt when his doorbell rang.

  Who the hell can that be?

  He grabbed his smartphone and looked at the front door cam. A shapely woman in a black trench coat stood silhouetted in the front porch light, looking like every fantasy he’d ever had.

  Damn, Willow was even wearing the sexy boots he’d given her. The ones no straight man in his right mind could resist. Images of the mind-blowing sex they’d had while she was wearing those boots flashed through his mind. Suddenly a cold shower seemed like the best idea in the world. That and a tranquilizer shot intravenously. Nothing short of that was going to calm the desire coursing through him.

  He took a deep breath and weighed his options as the doorbell rang again. Ignore her and hope to hell she went away and got home safely? Or answer the door, let her in, and risk blowing a cover two years in the making and ruining Willow’s life again?

  There didn’t seem any middle ground. He couldn’t rely on his self-control, which was why he had to blow this place. Soon.

  He made a split-second decision. He couldn’t leave her out there. What if someone saw her? What if Kennett saw her? Kennett would use any weapon he could against Jack, especially because he thought Jack was either Sariel or a SMASH assassin poaching on his territory and trying to get to him through Willow.

  No way would Jack let Willow become collateral damage. Damn, if Kennett ever had Willow in a spot where he could harm her Jack would crack. She was his one weakness, the one thing that affected his ability to be the perfect assassin. His one vulnerability. He must never let the enemy know that. That’s another reason he had to leave Willow behind. She interfered with his ability to get the job done. Though she was also the reason he did the job in the first place.

  When cornered or captured, spies were trained to take a suicide pill rather than spill valuable intel to the enemy. Jack knew the drill. He was cornered, surrounded, and bound by his heart. Which left him no alternative.

  He grabbed his bag of chemicals, rifled through it, pulled a vial, extracted a pill, and stared at it for half a second. Damn, this was going to hurt him way more than Willow would get hurt. It was fast acting, too. But it couldn’t be helped. He poppe
d the pill without water. He had maybe ten minutes before it took effect.

  He dashed down the stairs without thinking and threw open the door.

  Willow looked up at him through smoky bedroom eyes, not even arching a brow in surprise at his attire, or lack of. Her gaze traveled leisurely down the length of his body, from his eyes with the eye black cream beneath them, down his bare chest, past his nipples that hardened along with the rest of him under her appraising eye. He had to resist the urge to flex his muscles like a peacock parading for his lady. Okay, he may have flexed, a little.

  Two could play the seductive stare game. Damn she looked hot in that trench coat and tight jeans. And those tall-heeled boots to her knees. Her moist lip gloss sparkled in the lamplight, making her lips look full and ready to be kissed, possessed. And he wanted to possess her.

  He knew what she was up to. He’d asked for this fantasy before. Why the hell hadn’t she given it to him then, when he could have enjoyed it?

  “Let me in before someone sees me.” She glanced around furtively and then smiled up at him again in the way she used to when she had sex on the brain.

  He stepped aside and let her in. But only because he knew in a few minutes there’d be no way he could perform.

  She closed the door behind her and faced him, standing too close to his personal space in the small entryway at the bottom of the stairs leading to the guest house. “You didn’t reply to any of my texts or direct messages. I hope you don’t think I’m a nutcase or exaggerating. So I came to warn you in person and convince you I’m not. Someone’s been spreading vicious rumors about you.”

  “Now why would someone do such a thing?” He enjoyed letting his gaze travel down her body. “Hot coat. Playing secret agent?” He may as well call her on her game.

  Her eyes sparkled. “Maybe.”

  He let his gaze travel over her again, hoping, though knowing it was bad for him, that she wore nothing beneath that trench coat. “Halloween’s still a ways away.”

  She laughed in that twinkly way that turned him on, and reached up and stroked his cheek just below the eye black.