Love Another Day

  He was grinning like an idiot when she broke away. “Tease,” he said.

  “Convincing actress.” She gave him another light kiss on the lips. “Do you have Tate’s keys?”

  Mason nodded and grabbed the remains of Tate’s iced mocha.

  “Let’s go.” She took his arm when he stood.

  “Dressed as a college girl you are incredibly hot.”

  “Thank you, baby.” She cuddled into Mason.

  “What’s the plan once we get to the car? Are you going to teleport into Tate’s?”

  “I wish.” She laughed, trying to make it appear as if they were having fun and totally unaware they were in danger. “I’m going to use a trick of magic—inattentional blindness—to my advantage. But I’m relying on you to be convincing.

  “In my bag, I have an inflatable doll and a blond wig.”

  “You travel with an inflatable doll?” Mason said.

  She shrugged and grinned. “Don’t get any lewd ideas. I travel with several. Assassins never leave home without their weapons. I never leave home without mine. Inflatable people are flat and easy to pack. And they serve all kinds of purposes.

  “Once I climb into the car, I’m going to inflate her and put her wig on. Your task is to talk to her like she’s real and not let your tail get close enough to realize she’s not. Although she’s very lifelike.”

  “Anatomically correct, I hope.”

  Mal laughed. “And stacked. You’ll love her.”

  “That still doesn’t explain how you’re getting out of the car.”

  “Tate is going to create a distraction and I’m going to climb out of the car and join him before we even leave the lot.”

  “Sounds tricky,” Mason said. “Let’s get to it.”

  “Just make sure we hook our tail first.” Mal smiled at him as she took his arm and they made their way to the car.

  Their tail, who’d been watching them as he ate a doughnut, casually got up and followed them before heading to his car.

  This was where things got tricky. Mal had coordinated efforts like these, even trained people on the methods for using dummies to escape tight situations. But she hadn’t performed one in the field. The timing had to be perfect.

  Fortunately, Tate had been driving so that it was reasonable for Mal as Mallie to get into the passenger seat. She pretended to buckle her seat belt and then bent as if to get something from her purse. Her heart thumped wildly as she pulled Inflatable Annie from her bag, unfolded her, and positioned her in the seat. Mal pulled her own hair back into a tight ponytail, put on a baseball cap, and pulled a different T-shirt over her blouse.

  She texted Tate. Now.

  In response to her text, a car alarm went off. Everyone in the lot turned to look.

  “Our tail’s distracted,” Mason said. “Now.”

  Mal hit the button on the self-inflating dummy. Within seconds, she inflated into a three-dimensional woman. Mal slapped a wig on her.

  “Tate’s moving into position. He’ll be blocking our follower’s view in three, two, one—now!”

  Mal slid out of the car. “Take care. And treat my girl nice.”

  “I’ll buy her dinner before I make any moves,” Mason said.

  She grinned back at him and was out and just another tourist walking into the food court, with her heart pounding.

  Mason took off with the tail after him and his inflatable friend. Mal dashed through the food court to Tate’s waiting car. She slid into the backseat.

  Tate wasted no time pulling out. “Nice work.”

  “Everyone should have an Inflatable Annie.”

  “There are a lot of lonely men who’d agree with you.” Tate consulted his GPS and pulled out of the services area tailing the tail tailing Mason.

  Mal tried to get a good view of Mason’s car to see how authentic Annie looked. Pretty good. Convincing. From this distance and angle, she easily passed for a real woman, especially if you expected her to be one. She’d be great to use in the carpool-only lanes back home.

  Mal glanced at the tail following Mason. The driver reached for something.

  “Damn! He’s got a gun.” With one hand on the wheel, Tate reached for his.

  Before Tate could get it out, a bullet shattered the back window of Mason’s car. Inflatable Annie slumped forward, losing air. And Sophia let out a bloodcurdling scream.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Tate cursed to himself as the tail’s car accelerated. Tate took aim just as the tail backed off. “What the hell?” Tate frowned. “RIOT wants me alive.”

  “Lucky for Mason,” Mal said.

  Damn if Tate was going to take any chance of the RIOT bastard changing his mind and catching up to either of them. He fired, taking out the tail’s left rear tire. The tire collapsed onto its wheel, grinding and squealing on the pavement as the driver fought to maintain control.

  The tail lost the fight. The vehicle veered off the road ahead of them and crashed into a rock wall, crumpling like the crap car it was. The driver slumped forward over the steering wheel, unconscious.

  “Nice work,” Mal said, reaching for her cell phone.

  “Thank you.” Tate was shaken and more grateful than he could express that Mal had insisted on coming along with Sophia and him. He was right—it was too damn dangerous for her to pretend to be Sophia. If she’d tried to lead RIOT on a rabbit chase, she’d have been a dead bunny. He swallowed hard, pushing away the image of telling Kayla her mommy was dead and he was to blame. He could never have forgiven himself.

  Sophia grabbed Tate’s arm with urgency as they rapidly approached the wreckage. “Stop!”

  “You want to stop and help him?” Tate had just a few seconds to make up his mind.

  “I want to make sure he’s dead.” Her voice was as warm and cuddly as acid. “If he isn’t, he’ll never give up and we won’t be safe.”

  Tate drove past, in no mood to be delayed and questioned or show fake concern for the assassin’s hide. He’d be damned if he’d commit a covert murder in front of an audience, either. Especially for a woman who was causing him so much trouble.

  He glanced in the rearview mirror. Cars were already pulling over. Innocent people rushed over to help, cell phones to their ears. A crowd was forming and gawking. Traffic slowing. Tate was glad to be ahead of it. Morbid curiosity was hell and a damned nuisance.

  In the backseat, Mal was texting. “I’m contacting MI5. They’ll pick him up and deal with the mess. If they can get through that crowd. Emergency services will be arriving any minute. If they hurry, they can intercept them.”

  Tate accelerated. “Let’s hope MI5 gets him and he squeals. Has Britain outlawed waterboarding?”

  Sophia dropped her hand from his arm. She was still pale and shaking. “I could be dead.”

  Mal leaned forward in the backseat and poked her head between them. “You mean I could be dead. I was the one who was actually in that car for a time impersonating you. If I hadn’t had Inflatable Annie, I’d be getting a posthumous star on the Agency wall.” Mal frowned. “Poor Annie. She was a good inflatable. She didn’t deserve to go like that.”

  Sophia stared straight ahead, not bothering to thank Mal. It was clear she viewed Mal as the competition and despised her for it. Being in the spy biz was a thankless job.

  Mal switched topics. “Why did RIOT go to all the trouble to take out a guard at Heathrow if they were planning to kill Sophia just outside Oxford?”

  “We must have gotten it the wrong way around,” Tate said. He’d been wondering the same thing. “Heathrow was the backup plan. Dual redundancy in case we managed to slip through the assassin’s sights.”

  “What is their game?” Mal said, still leaning forward. “They’re up to more than meets the eye. We just can’t see it.” She pounded the seat beside her.

  “Whatever it is, it’s clear Sophia is now expendable. Maybe even a liability.” Tate glanced at Sophia as she clenched her hands tightly in her lap. “Is it because you ran and th
ey know you betrayed them? Then why not kill you in the parking garage?”

  Sophia stared in her lap. “I don’t know.”

  It wasn’t easy reading Sophia while driving, looking for the involuntary microexpressions that signaled she was lying. He didn’t see any evidence in her body language or expression. But he wasn’t convinced.

  “And how did they catch on to us so quickly?” Mal asked.

  “I don’t know!” Sophia buried her head in her hands.

  Tate rubbed her shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re fine. We’re going to get you out of England and to the States where you’ll be safe.”

  Mal’s cell rang. She glanced at it. “It’s Mason.” She picked up. “Are you okay? Good.” She paused, listening as Tate strained to overhear. “Yes. Yes, very sad.” Mal laughed. “Me, too. Poor thing. I agree. No, you’re spot on. Take the train. Yeah, you, too. Bye.”

  “What’s up?” Tate asked, not liking the flirty tone Mal had taken with the British agent. “How’s Mason?”

  “Calm and unflappable as always. Amused and mourning the loss of Annie. I think he was falling for her in the short time he knew her. He has a thing for blondes. He said she was the perfect woman—gorgeous and totally able to keep a secret.” She laughed again. “If he hadn’t been teasing I’d have to hold his chauvinism against him.”

  Tate wasn’t amused. “How is he going to deal with the shooting? Is MI5 planning to fake Sophia’s death?”

  “No. He spoke to his bosses. They think it’s too dangerous with too much potential for something to go wrong. They don’t know how deeply RIOT has infiltrated. Do they have people in the coroner’s office? Someone there who could definitely ID any body they try to pass off as not Sophia?

  “How do they explain Mason being in that car? What would his cover be? Trying to hide reality from the press all to fool RIOT, who may not be fooled anyway, will involve too many people. And the moment RIOT realizes you weren’t with Sophia, they’ll know something’s up.”

  Tate frowned. Mal and MI5 were right, but he’d feel a whole lot better if RIOT believed Sophia was dead. “What do they suggest?”

  “They’re not going to mention it. Mason is going to impersonate you as Dr. Stevens. He’ll take the train to Scotland with his cross-dressing fellow agent dressed like Sophia, hoping to lead RIOT astray while we escape through Ireland.

  “With any luck, it will take a while for RIOT to realize Sophia’s still alive and go looking for her. That will buy us some time. In the meantime, we proceed to Reading as if nothing has happened.”

  Mal’s cell pinged. “Ah, a text from Sir Herbert. Our new covers will be waiting for us. When we get to town, I’ll give you directions to the drop site.”

  In Reading, Mal directed Tate to a parking spot a couple of blocks away from the historic Reading train station. “We’re to leave the car here. MI5 will take care of it. After we pick up the cover change drop, there’s a nearby coffee shop where we can change and dump our current clothes. Then it’s off to the train station and Liverpool.”

  Mal reached for the door handle. “I’ll retrieve the drop. Cover me.”

  “Just a second.” Tate stopped her. He surveyed the area and took out his gun. “All clear. Be careful.”

  He kept his eyes on Mal as she walked across the sidewalk and retrieved a duffel bag from beneath a clump of bushes.

  “You watch her like you’re still in love with her.”

  He nearly jumped at the sound of Sophia’s voice beside him. “Do I? Sorry. I’m not. I was just reminiscing. We met in England. It was a good time. We were very much in love before things went sour.”

  “I didn’t think hardened spies were sentimental.”

  “You thought wrong.” He didn’t take his eyes off Mal. He was lying, on all counts. “Does it bother you?”

  “No, it’s sexy and sweet.” Sophia cuddled into him.

  Mal hurried across the sidewalk and hopped back in the car. Was it Tate’s imagination or did she look a touch guilty? Damn, that didn’t bode well for him. Nor did the look on her face as she glanced at Sophia.

  Mal swept a lock of hair out of her eyes. “Let’s see what Sir Herbert has left for us. I gave him our measurements so I’m not worried about fit.” She looked up at Tate. “Oh, come on, you two. Stop looking at me like that. Sir Herbert has exquisite taste. I can’t tell you how lucky you are to come to his personal attention and be dressed by him. It’s an absolute honor.”

  Tate thought she protested too much, or at the very least was overselling, which put him on his guard. And he wished Sophia would stop clinging to him like ivy sucking the life out of its host tree.

  Mal pulled a pair of jeans, a hoodie, and a women’s T-shirt out of the bag. “Sophia, this has your name on it. Look at these fabulous flats he sent for you.” She handed them over the front seat.

  Sophia took them cautiously. “Who am I supposed to be?” She looked less than impressed with her costume.

  “My baby sister.” Mal spoke with all the superiority of a bossy big sis, looking as if she was going to enjoy her role.

  Tate had another bad feeling about this.

  “What?” Mal said when she caught him staring at her. “It’s an obvious choice. Sophia and I can easily pass for sisters. I’m older, so I’m the big sis. That also allows me to issue orders covertly.” She grinned and turned her attention back to rifling through the bag. “I didn’t want too much scrutiny on this trip. We’re going to have to look and act like everyday American tourists.” Mal turned to Sophia. “Think you can handle that?”

  Sophia gave an almost imperceptible shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t want to be your sister.”

  “In all honesty, I’m not so wild about being related to you, either, so we’re even,” Mal said. “As a rule, I try to stay out of Tate’s love life and far away from the women he’s dating.” She glanced at Tate. “But I was assigned to this mission to bring you back to the States alive. And that’s what I’m going to do. I’m the expert here, not you. You can either follow my orders and do as I say, or get out of this car right now and take your chances.”

  “Ah, family!” Tate couldn’t resist. “Isn’t it wonderful? I can hardly wait for Christmas.”

  Sophia scowled. “Fine.” Even angry, she was stunning. But Mal was even sexier, especially when she took control like that.

  “Great! Glad you see it my way. You’ll be the sister who’s been living abroad here in England for the last year. That will explain your slight British accent and your familiarity with the country. I’ll be the American sister who’s come to visit you—”

  “And Tate will be my American boyfriend who’s come to visit me,” Sophia said with a triumphant smile. “You may be the big sister, but you get to be the third wheel.”

  Tate should have been amused and flattered to have Sophia fighting for his affections. Instead, he was worried about her addictive personality. She was too clingy and oddly more concerned about being with him than staying alive. Something was off about that. He could hardly wait to get her to the States and out of his hair.

  “You might change your mind when you see what Sir Herbert has for Tate.” Mal pulled out a pair of women’s jeans in a size that looked like something from the big and tall women’s shop, along with a padded butt insert with a front fly, a padded bra, a pair of silicone inserts, a frilly lavender embellished T-shirt, and a pair of men’s size twelve lilac crochet women’s slip-on shoes that looked like a Toms knockoff.

  “Don’t try to pass this off on Sir Herbert.” Tate fairly exploded. “This is your doing. It’s why I’ve never let you arrange my cover life and for good reason—”

  “You’ve never had a cover life before.”

  “This is payback.” He studied Mal and was convinced of two things—she was acting as if this really was payback and revenge, but he was sure it wasn’t, and she was doing everything in her power to keep Sophia and him apart. He knew that was part of her mission. He also realized Mal was tr
ying to make it look as if she and he were still on the outs so Sophia wouldn’t abort the mission.

  “What are you talking about? Just because our marriage ended on a sour note and I was a tiny bit peeved that you aced me out of designing the alien costumes for Rock Powers’s show doesn’t mean I’d take revenge.” Her eyes flashed.

  Okay, maybe she was still pissed about that.

  “I’m going to kill you, Mal,” he said, playing along.

  She smiled sweetly and laughed. “Tate, Tate, Tate, you’re overreacting. You’ll hurt Sir Herbert’s feelings if he ever finds out about your reaction to his clever plan.”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass about Sir Herbert’s feelings.”

  “Well, you should. He’s gone out on a limb for us and worked overtime readying these new covers. Do you think covers grow on trees? This took thought, planning, emergency covert shopping, budget, and careful consideration—”

  “Dressing me as a woman took careful consideration?” He snorted. He’d bet Sir Herbert had had lots of fun thinking up this cover and finding a way to humiliate him. Sir Herbert had never been overly fond of Tate. He thought Mal had married beneath her. Tell that to Lenora. His mother would be furious.

  “I thought we were supposed to blend in and not draw attention to ourselves. What about a six-foot-three woman who’s a man in drag won’t draw attention?”

  “RIOT won’t be expecting us to be obvious. They definitely won’t be looking for three women traveling together. A man in our company is a dead giveaway.”

  Sophia winced.

  “Sorry,” Mal said. “Bad choice of words. You’ll just have to channel Lenora. Act like her and you’ll scare away anyone who even thinks of approaching us.”

  There was a certain warped logic to the plan, but Tate still didn’t like it. “I’m not an undercover expert. You’ve always told me the best covers, those easiest to maintain, are those closest to your true self. Those are the covers you choose for amateurs. I’m not woman material.”

  “Channel your inner female side, Tate, and you’ll do fine.”

  “Who says I have a female side?”