Ryder
Atlanta, GA
Friday morning
The shower was freezing.
But after that little display on the mat by Jolie, I didn’t have many options. My skin was on fire from every place she’d touched me. My lips twitched with the need to kiss her. I’d wanted to throw her down on that mat and show her just where all her teasing was leading. Show her that I was the one who was in control.
Only, I was not in control.
The desire I felt for her continued to grow, and with the op ahead of us, it wasn’t going to get any better. We had to play our roles convincingly in order for the enemy to believe it.
Nina and I had been friends, so although we weren’t romantically involved, it was easy to be with her. To kiss her and hold her, and then to let her go. We genuinely liked each other, and kissing her was a pleasure. But there hadn’t been any heat between us. It was comfortable.
There was nothing comfortable about the way I felt about Jolie. And it was going to be the death of me—or, worse, her—if I didn’t get it under control.
She was smart. I’d give her that. She’d used distraction to get the drop on me, and it had worked like a charm. But I still didn’t like the idea of Jolie being in danger. She was too sweet, too innocent, too fragile.
Only, she hadn’t been fragile this morning. I’d run as fast as I could, hoping to put some distance between us, but she’d only been steps behind me. Then to fight like she had and to take me down to the mat, well, it was damned impressive. But I meant her no real harm. She wasn’t guaranteed that on an op. Whoever she was fighting would be out to win at any cost, even her life.
I was outranked and outvoted on this one. So, Jolie Phillips would be my partner whether I liked it or not.
And therein lay another problem. I did like it. I liked her. A lot. Her spunk. Her fire. Her tenacity. And yet all of that was wrapped up in one sweet, tiny package.
***
Saturday morning
Changing my appearance to take on the role of Sasha Petrov was necessary even though I wasn’t excited about the prospect of having my long locks cut and dyed. It just about killed me. I’d grown used to the long hair and hated to part with it. But hair grew, and the job came first.
I also took some time to hit the mall and create a new wardrobe for the role. When Sasha had existed in Russia, he had the quintessential look of a computer nerd. Khaki for days. But since Sasha was now in the United States and on the run from the Russian Mafia, I felt like he needed a boost. A tacky boost, but a boost all the same.
I was in the best shape of my life. Working out every day at the gym, sometimes several times a day, training Jolie, well, it had done wonders for my physique. Sasha had been in shape, but nothing like I was in now. But Sasha’s persona would lend itself to a little bit of cockiness at his current fitness level, and he’d want to show it off.
So, I bought T-shirts a size smaller, threw in a few tank tops that fitted me like second skin, a leather jacket, some ripped jeans that fitted like a glove, and a couple of pairs of motorcycle boots. I went for bold prints and flashy colors. All in all, I looked like a wannabe biker thug, and that was exactly the look I was going for.
I was heading to the food court to grab a bite to eat when I heard a female voice shout my name. I knew that voice. Jolie.
I turned slowly, watching as she sauntered closer, her hips swaying in the short skirt she wore, her curves highlighted to perfection. And her hair— “What did you do to your hair?”
She frowned at the tone of my voice. I wasn’t trying to be rude, but it was such a shock after her rainbow-colored locks that I was momentarily taken off guard.
“I dyed it, of course. Piper and Lydia said it might be better if it wasn’t quite so bright.” She pulled her fingers in and flung them out as she said the word bright. “You don’t like it?”
She looked nervous as she twisted a lock of hair around her finger. It was still short and bouncy, hitting just below her chin, but the color was, well, it was stunning. Her roots were a soft pink that faded into a pale blond so white, it looked ethereal, otherworldly.
“No. I love it. You look beautiful, Jolie.”
Her cheeks turned a lovely shade of rose, and I grinned. It was the first time I’d ever complimented her appearance, and it pleased me that it affected her so much.
“Thank you. But can I ask—what the hell did you do to your hair?”
I laughed loudly, drawing attention from other people passing by. “Sasha was a brunette. And he had shorter hair.”
“I miss the blond. And the length.”
Jolie’s disappointment did something to my insides. I wanted to rush right out and have my hair changed back to its normal color. There wasn’t much I could do about the length.
“It’s temporary. And hair grows. Fortunately, mine grows pretty quickly.” I leaned forward as if to tell her a secret. “I miss it, too.”
She beamed at me, then looped her arm through mine. “Where are you off to?”
“Just going to grab some food and head back to HQ.”
“Oh.” Her face fell for a moment. I hurried to hopefully ease her disappointment.
“Want to meet up when you get back? We can go over our backstory—how we met and all those things that people ask. We need to have our stories straight.” It was an excuse to be close to her. Sure, we needed to do all those things, but the angst from Thursday morning had been momentarily replaced with contentment.
“Sure. I still have some shopping to do. Piper needed a moment. She’s uh, in the bathroom.” She cringed. “And Lydia is helping her. We have one more store to stop at, and then we’ll head back. Say four o’clock?”
I nodded. “Sounds good.”
Jolie removed her arm from mine and skipped back to the bathroom, tossing me a little wave over her shoulder. I couldn’t help but watch the dance of her hips as she left me. When she turned back around and caught me watching, it was my turn for the red face.
***
I waited anxiously for Jolie’s arrival. It hadn’t helped that I’d tried to tell myself over and over again that this was just an op. That Jolie and I were not really engaged. That we were never going to be. Marriage wasn’t in the cards for me. My dad had taught me that.
It hadn’t helped that I’d replayed the way she’d looked earlier that day either, because when she walked in the door, I was dumbfounded. She was still dressed in that same short plaid skirt and the skin-baring baby-doll T-shirt. I wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked right above her waistline.
I cleared my throat as Jolie took the seat next to me.
“So, what’s the plan?” Her big blue eyes blinked casually up at me, and I had to clear my throat again.
“We’ll uh, just talk about how Sasha and Jolie met.”
“Since you get an undercover name, do I get one too?”
I couldn’t help the grin that twitched my lips as I took in her pouting expression. “Your last name will be different.” I took the fake ID out that I’d had made.
“Hey! How’d you get a picture so fast? I just had my hair changed this morning.”
“Lydia sent it to me after we talked. I’d already started the process of the ID but needed an updated picture.”
“Oh, that’s why she took that picture. Makes sense now.”
Jolie eyed the identification. “Jolie Miller. Really? You couldn’t get more creative than that?”
“It’s not about being creative. It’s about being simple enough for you to remember. The best lie is one that’s close enough to the truth that you don’t have to remember what’s true and what’s not.”
“Got it. So, how’d we meet?”
“At the gym.” I chuckled at her open-mouthed expression. “Again, close to the truth.”
“I think I can handle that. What else?”
“Well, when I saw you it was love at first sight. I was desperate to get your attention. We went out a few times, and I asked you to marry me.”
“Okay, but how?”
“How what?”
“How did you ask me to marry you?”
I shrugged. Did it really matter how I’d asked? Who cared?
“If it’s going to be believable, we have to have a story.”
“I guess I got down on one knee at a restaurant and asked you.”
Jolie’s face pulled into a grim scowl. “Seriously? That’s the best you can do?”
I sighed and rubbed my face with my hands. “Fine. What’s your idea?”
“Sasha surprised me with a trip to Vegas. We stayed at the Bellagio, a dream of mine for years. We spent a couple of days going into all the hotels, riding roller coasters, going up into the STRAT and seeing the city from above. Sasha took me up to the Eiffel Tower where he promised that one day we’d travel to France and Italy. We finished off our last night at the Venetian on a gondola ride.”
She sighed and put her hands to her heart as if this wasn’t the first time she’d thought about how she would be proposed to.
“It’s on that ride that Sasha orchestrated the most romantic night ever. A basket with cheese and wine sat waiting on them. The gondolier had been prepped, and as they took a tour around the manmade canal, the gondolier broke into a heartbreaking Italian love ballad. On the highest note, where all the people had gathered to watch and hear, Sasha got down on one knee and asked Jolie to be his wife. To make him the happiest man alive. And she said yes. The crowd erupted in applause, snapping pictures and telling their friends at home about the amazing proposal they were privileged to watch.”
“You’ve given this a lot of thought.”
“Not really. I just… I don’t know. When the man you want to spend the rest of your life with proposes, it should be special. Doesn’t have to be elaborate or expensive. But it should have some thought behind it.”
“Okay, then. Vegas it is.”
“We’ve been dating how long?”
“Four months.”
About the length of time we’d known each other—again, easy to remember.
Jolie jerked her head in understanding. “Got it.”
“What do I know about your past?”
“Nothing. Do not indicate that you know anything about my time in Moscow. Is that clear?” I couldn’t help that my voice had taken on a stringent, angry edge to it. I didn’t want Jolie anywhere near the cluster that was Moscow.
She lifted her hands in defense. “Fine—I get it. Geez, you don’t have to bite my head off.”
I sighed again, loudly this time, and tugged at my too-short hair. Damn, I missed it. “I’m sorry. Look, Moscow was bad. The thought of you getting tied up with any of the people from that time makes me crazy. I’m just trying to keep you safe. The less you know, the better.”
“Is that really true, though? What if I need to know something? What if someone expects me to know something? Wouldn’t your fiancée know about your past?”
“Not the pieces you’re asking about. You know I lived there. You know I’m Russian. That’s all you need to know.”
“Fine.”
I knew she was angry that I wasn’t sharing more about my past, but it was for her own good. I hated that it was tied up with the likes of Nikolai Dmitriev.
Nina’s lifeless eyes popped into my head, and I sucked in a breath. I would not allow the same thing to happen to Jolie. I would keep her safe. Or die trying.
“Anything else?”
“No. I think that’s it. Oh, I almost forgot—”
I opened up a small manila envelope and tilted it on its side. I let the object fall into the palm of my hand. I’d taken it out of the velvet box, thinking it would feel a bit too real if I gave it to her that way. When I looked up, Jolie’s eyes were wide as she stared at the ring I held.
“You, um—” I cleared my throat. Again. What in the world was going on that I couldn’t speak or even breathe? “You need a ring.”
Jolie nodded and held out her hand palm up. I took her hand in mine and turned it over, sliding the ring onto her finger. She balled it up, pulling it from my grasp, and stood with jerky movements.
“Thanks. I, um, I need to go.”
She rushed out of the room, and I hung my head. Why had I done that? I should have just handed it to her and let her put the damn thing on herself.
But there was something about the moment, and I’d needed to be the one to put that ring on her hand. I was crazy. I knew that. And a glutton for punishment. I knew that too. And if she had any idea where the ring came from, she’d flip.
But no matter how much the idea of my ring on Jolie’s finger filled me with joy unspeakable, it could never be reality.
And the sooner I got that through my head the better.
***
That night, I tossed and turned in bed. I was hot and had stripped down to nothing but my underwear. Still, I was sweating profusely.
I stood and opened a window, allowing the crisp Atlanta night air to cool off the room, but I was still hot. Finally, I pushed it back down and took a cold shower. When I was done, I drifted off to a fitful sleep.
Memories of Nina floated through my mind as I slept. Strolling through the city, hand in hand as the snow drifted around us. Nina at a particular party dressed in a champagne-colored gown, its flimsy, flirty skirt swirling around her ankles. She’d looked like an angel that night. Lying next to her in bed, one of our many sleepovers that hadn’t included sex, but we’d lain awake talking for hours. She’d cuddled up to me, her head on my chest while she told me about her mother and how she’d found her the next morning dead in her lover’s arms.
Nina’s eyes, unseeing as they were frozen forever on the horror of her last moments. Her mouth parted in a silent scream. Her throat slit. So much blood.
And then the vision changed.
And it wasn’t Nina’s eyes that stared at me with lifeless terror. It was Jolie. Her pale-pink hair lying limply against the white pillow, her blood a stark contrast to her ivory skin.
I woke with a shout, coming upright, covered again in sweat.
I didn’t sleep the rest of the night.
***
Jolie
Saturday afternoon
“Widen your stance.” Piper touched my hips as she squared me up with the target. “That’s it. Good.”
I inhaled, and then on my exhale pulled the trigger, firing off several shots in quick succession. Piper pulled the target forward.
“Oh, my gosh!” My voice was a high squeal, but I didn’t care.
“You hit center mass. No wild shots. You’re getting better at this.” Piper gave me a high five then promptly turned green. “I’m sorry,” she muttered just as she ran out the door.
I hated that she was so sick, but I’d already tried to follow her the first two times she’d run out of here like a bat out of hell. She’d waved me off and told me to go back to practicing.
I replaced the target and hit the button that retracted it back. The door opened and whooshed shut, and I paused to glance behind me. Ryder stood there in low-slung jeans, a tight black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. He looked dark and dangerous, especially with the brown hair. I missed his golden locks, but the job came before vanity any day.
Ryder picked up the target I’d just decimated and then lifted a brow. I couldn’t help but preen under his approving gaze, but I shrugged one shoulder as if it wasn’t a big deal.
“You’re getting good at this.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
I tried to ignore him behind me. This was my shot to show him what I could do. He stepped closer, aligning my hips with his big hands. I could feel his breath on the nape of my neck. He bent closer and whispered, his lips brushing lightly over my skin. “It’s all in your breathing.”
Straightening my shoulders, I eyed the target and pulled the trigger. I knew as soon as the bullets left the gun that I’d missed. Big time.
Groaning, I hit the button for the target. When the shots were all over the place, a couple barely hitting the paper at all, Ryder chuckled. Which only served to piss me off.
“You distracted me!” I whirled around, pointing my finger at his chest.
He lifted his hands. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I was just helping you line up.”
“Right. That’s why you were breathing down my neck.”
“Jolie, I was just close to you so I could help make any last-minute adjustments.”
His words sounded sincere, but the gleam in his eyes told a different story. “Just go again.”
“Fine, but this time you need to stay back.”
Ryder nodded and took two giant steps back. Pleased that he’d followed directions, I turned back to the target, replacing it with a new one, and pushed the button. When the target was in place, I lined up my sights, and squeezed on the exhale of my breath.
When the cartridge was empty, I hit the button for the target and watched as it slid towards me.
“Damn.”
Ryder was close behind me again, so close I could feel the heat of his body. I’d aimed for head shots this time, hoping to hit one or two. All six shots had landed on the intended target.
With a whoop, I whirled around and wrapped my arms around Ryder’s neck, kissing him loudly on the mouth. “I did it!” I knew the grin on my face had to be a million watts right then.
My smile fell when I saw the look in Ryder’s eyes. Hunger. Desire. He looked as if he was warring with himself, trying to decide what to do next. I stood perfectly still as he made his decision.
When he lowered his head, I closed my eyes. I’d dreamt a hundred times about what it would be like to kiss Ryder Blake. I’d wondered if his lips would be as soft as they looked. I’d wondered if he’d taste spicy or sweet. I waited for his lips to touch mine, his breath fanning across my cheeks in short bursts. My chest heaved as the anticipation thrummed through me.
At the softest brush of his mouth, electric shock tore through my body. Once, twice, three times his lips pressed against mine. I moaned, not caring that I sounded like a cheap floozy. I’d longed for this. Waited for this.
I pressed closer as Ryder’s mouth came down hard against mine. Just as I opened to invite him in, to take the kiss deeper, someone cleared their throat.
It was as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been poured over our heads. Ryder jumped back—his hands lifted as if he hadn’t been touching me. As if his lips hadn’t been on mine. I glanced over his shoulder to find Piper, pallid, sweaty, and a little bit green standing in the doorway. Her eyes shot back and forth between us, and her lips lifted in a smile. Then she saw the target I’d hit, and her grin widened.
“Did you do that?”
I stuck my hands in my back pockets and rocked on my heels. “Yep.”
“That’s awesome. You’re ready, Jolie. There’s no doubt about it.”
At those words, Ryder’s scowl returned, and he pushed out the door, barely acknowledging Piper with a nod.
I sighed as the door closed behind him.
“Sorry.”
“Whatever for?”
“Well, it looked like things were just getting good.”
I let out a serrated breath. “Yeah, they were. But maybe it’s for the best. He always seems so pissed off to learn he’s attracted to me. I don’t understand it.”
“Men are weird. They have all these internal dialogues with themselves about what they think is best for everyone.” She shook her head. “If they’d just follow their hearts, most of the time things would work out just the way they’re supposed to.”
“I don’t see that happening with Ryder.”
Piper smiled and squeezed my arm. “I said the same thing about Cade.”
***
After the gun range, I spent time with Lydia on first-aid treatment. Since underground fighting was different from the typical fights we hosted at the gym and there would be no medical staff on-site, I needed to know how to treat Ryder’s injuries if he sustained any.
“You’ll need to watch him for concussions. That’s really the biggest threat.” She went over several pointers to help determine if a person had a concussion or likely had one. Lydia also showed me how to use butterfly bandages to close wounds that needed stitches until we could get Ryder to a hospital where they could treat him properly. The rest was smooth sailing. Cleaning and disinfecting wounds. Icing swollen knuckles.
“Thanks, Lydia.”
I always felt a little silly standing next to Lydia. She was so beautiful with her tan skin and long, luxurious brown locks. Lydia wasn’t very tall, but she held herself with such grace, it made her seem taller, larger than life somehow. And she was brilliant. So smart and educated. But also extremely humble.
“It’s my pleasure. I wish one of us was going with you. Me or Cruz, at least. But Levi says that will call too much attention. You’re more important to the case than we are.”
“Hardly.”
Lydia stopped putting supplies into her bag and stared at me a moment. “You don’t see yourself very clearly, Jolie. There are not many women who could do this job. Even fewer who could come in with little education and training.”
I flinched at her words, all too aware of how little I brought to the table. She reached out and placed her hand on my arm. “You misunderstand. That’s a compliment. You have done in just a few months’ time what most women couldn’t do with all the training and advantages in the world. You’ve followed your dreams and made them a reality. I’m so jealous of your tenacity and spirit.”
Lydia was jealous of me? Impossible. I must have scoffed or rolled my eyes because Lydia chuckled softly. “I mean it.”
“Thank you. I never knew what I wanted to do until I came here. When I met Piper, I decided I wanted to be just like her.”
“She’s definitely a force to be reckoned with. Except when she’s growing a tiny human. If anyone wanted to get the jump on her, now’s the time.”
We both laughed at that. Lydia zipped up her medical bag and handed it over to me. I took it with both hands, a little intimidated by it, but also grateful I’d have the resources I needed if Ryder required medical treatment.
“How are you feeling? About working with Ryder.”
I shrugged, trying to feign nonchalance, but I could tell I wasn’t fooling her. “He knows me, and I know him. We’ve been training together for months, so it makes sense that my first assignment would be with him. I just hope I can help him. I don’t want to be a liability.”
“You won’t be. You’re not the victim type.”
No, I wasn’t. Which was why I was determined to be the best damn partner Ryder had ever had. I’d listen to him. Follow his instructions—well, within reason. And I’d cover his back. I would not be the damsel in distress.
“I just hope Ryder realizes that.”
“I think Ryder is busy trying to keep his hands off you. At least this gives him an excuse to give in.”
“What?”
“Girl, that boy has it bad. Playing your fiancé will give him the excuse he needs to finally give in to all the feelings brewing inside him.”
“It’s just a role we’re playing.”
“Just keep telling yourself that.”
Lydia tossed her hair over her shoulder and leaned in to give me a quick hug. “Be safe.”
I sat at the kitchen counter a little longer as she made her way back to the room she and Cruz shared when they were on campus. Was she correct in her thinking? Was Ryder grateful for an excuse to finally give in to the attraction that had been sparking around us for months? And how did I feel that it took an op like this to make him act on those feelings?
I decided I didn’t care. If I could get him to acknowledge how he felt, then maybe we’d have a future. A future like Cade and Piper, and Cruz and Lydia.