“They are trained killers and suspicious of everyone,” Eddie sang out in a low tone so Hannah could hear him over the earcomms. “They aren’t just going to let people tail them to their room.”
After getting Leo tucked away with Alex, and before they’d staked out the lobby of the Westin to catch the Huntingtons, he’d spent his afternoon digging around for camera feeds or anything that could prove Leo wasn’t the killer. But there were no camera feeds. They’d all been suspiciously dismantled around Leo’s apartment and Marty’s. Not on the fritz, not broken, the recordings had not been stolen, but all of the feeds had been cut. Definitely suspicious. So he was back to square one. He had to find something to tie another person to the crime scene, or short of recording a confession, Leo was screwed and he was partially to blame. He should’ve stayed around after graduation and actually done what he’d promised Mom he’d do—take care of his little brother. I’m doing it now, Mom, even if it’s a little too late.
Eddie swiped right on his phone in the hotel lobby as he glanced again at the check-in counter. He’d found a perfect position in a lounge chair to stake out the arriving guests. Hannah was pretending to talk to the concierge. She’d wanted to be within earshot. The two other agents on the task force were outside, monitoring the people coming in and out of the lobby.
They’d figured out who was coming in for the big meeting with Redburn—rather, he had because his skills were on point. That’s the awesomeness that had landed him in a seat where he couldn’t put his feet on the coffee table, and the closest bathroom automatically sprayed your shit with an equally crappy flower scent. All this so he could follow a couple up to their hotel room, arrest them, and then interrogate them instead of tracking down any evidence that could help his brother’s case. He should’ve held back on his badass tech skills. He should’ve never found the couple via multiple databases he had no business being in and a facial recognition program he’d written. But then he’d be back to being a poor team member, and he couldn’t stomach one more thing going wrong in his professional life. He needed to do an outstanding freaking job on this assignment so that Winter and his team could see he wasn’t incapable of doing good work. He needed redemption. His peeps at Wyn Security were his family, people he counted on. The idea that they didn’t think of him in the same way now nauseated him to his core.
Ironic, then, that George and Lilia Huntington were after the same thing. They’d landed themselves on the FBI watch list seven years ago by associating with a counterfeit ring out of Canada. The bureau had never pursued a case against them, but it started a file and added intel when possible. So far, Eddie knew that the Huntingtons lived a life of extravagance but not so much that they raised IRS flags, vacationed in tropical areas or near water—he’d guess for tactical reasons; international waters were a bitch on jurisdiction—and Lilia’s love of fine jewelry was second to none, while George enjoyed fast cars.
“Your eight o’clock.” Eddie made sure not to glance at the couple again. People who’d gotten away with this scale of illegal activity for nearly a decade did so because they trusted their instincts and erred on the side of caution.
Hannah didn’t move or flinch at the announcement; she continued to talk to the man in a suit about potential dinner reservations.
“Be calm,” Eddie whispered, spying the front desk clerk who’d been glancing at Hannah consistently since she walked in.
“I am calm,” Hannah hissed with her profile still to him.
“Not you.” Defensive much? Whatever the chip on that woman’s shoulder was, she was going to have to get over herself. Not everyone was here to please her, and not everyone was after her, either.
The couple in their pressed jeans and matching white button-down shirts led the bellhop hauling their designer luggage across the marble lobby floor to the bank of elevators. Hannah whirled on her heels. She’d changed into skinny jeans and a cargo jacket with boots, which fit right in. Not to mention her ass looked good in the tightly fitting pants. He’d kept his brown polo and jeans, going for the most nondescript look possible.
Hannah swiveled on her heels and grinned at the twenty-something clerk with a Superman comb-over. There was an extra bounce in her step as she headed directly for the desk. Did she just bat her eyelashes and laugh when he greeted her? She’s flirting with him. He shook his head and glanced at the revolving glass entrance. The agents, who’d failed to see Mr. and Mrs. Huntington come through the front door, were not in the lobby like they were supposed to be.
He pocketed his phone and met her on the walk to the elevators; careful to be sure the couple had already caught their ride up.
“Tenth floor.” Hannah flashed him the duplicated key card pocket.
“I figured they’d be in a top floor suite.” He glanced over his shoulder at the clerk who was watching Hannah’s ass. “Did you get his number?”
“Apparently they are keeping a low profile for the job.” Her brows furrowed. “Who’s number?”
“Never mind.”
After the elevator stopped, they listened for any hallway noises before stepping on the plush blue-and-gold-patterned carpet. The room they wanted was across from the exit stairwell, which couldn’t be a coincidence.
They hadn’t discussed the part where they got into the room yet. He was forming a scheme that he wasn’t so hot on—generally trying to avoid even acting desperate in front of women and coworkers. Hannah probably should’ve grabbed a maid’s outfit. Housekeepers were always trusted in hotels.
He pointed to the wall beside the door, and she stopped, angling her back against it. Too bad he didn’t figure out a way to get his lips on hers for this little play, too. He paused in front of the door and pictured himself drunk and in desperate need to make up with the woman behind the door.
“Bae,” he shouted as he pounded his fists on the center of the door. The ridiculous nickname for significant others people had these days rolled off his tongue, and he kind of liked it, “I’m sorry, bae. I love you.” He braced both hands on the frame and hung his head in front of the peephole, sniffling for good measure.
Faint steps approached on the other side of the door.
“You can’t stay mad forever,” he called out again, this time lifting his head and putting the sorriest frown on his lips he could muster. Whoever had come to the door needed to see the emotion and that he wasn’t giving up anytime soon. “You’re my lobster!”
Hannah snickered. He had to stifle a grin. If all else failed, they could always watch Friends reruns together on this stakeout.
“You have the wrong room.” A male voice held a stern warning on the other side of the door he was putting all of his weight on.
“Do you have someone in there, bae? Open this door.” Eddie banged his fists harder on the door. George wouldn’t get the option to ignore him. He was going to have to open his door, or risk other guests calling the front desk and eventually the police. “I swear to God, if you have already brought another man up to our room, our room—”
The chain clanked, and Eddie wrapped his palm around the doorframe for leverage.
“Baby, we can work this out.” He continued to sell the lie to drive home the fact that George needed to have a face-to-face conversation to make him go away.
“Your bae isn’t here.” George’s voice was clearer with the door open.
“I know.” Eddie jabbed his elbow up to George’s nose, connecting hard. He rushed him into the hotel room to let Hannah follow. The Misses was still in there somewhere. Which fighting skills and deadly force the couple liked to use wasn’t clear in the file, and there was no time to be wrong about them being peaceful criminals.
George took two swings, but Eddie avoided any impact and used the force of the last punch to twist George’s arm behind his back and slam him up against the door to the bathroom, pushing his forearm against George’s neck.
There was scuffling coming from the bed area, and Eddie looked over his left shoulder to glimpse Hannah.
“Kit Kat, how ya doing?” The scuffling stopped. Answer me, Hannah. Tell me you won. “Bae?” He had a gun with him, but there’d be a lot of unwanted attention if that’s what had to go down. She had two more seconds to answer him before he went after her.
“Just dandy.” Hannah’s hair was messy as she marched Lilia out from behind the bed. “Don’t call me any of those names.”
“Who are you? We don’t have any cash on us. Take the jewelry,” George rasped out with half his face still pressed firmly against the wall.
“I don’t suppose you have two sets of handcuffs on you?” Eddie called over his shoulder.
“Sure do. Brought them both for this happy occasion.”
“You’re cops? You don’t have anything on us.” Lilia’s demeanor was calm and cool, as if she were ordering fancy wine to go with a ritzy dinner.
“Let’s just see about that, shall we?” Eddie forced George over to the chair at the little window table with a view of more downtown brick buildings. The restaurant they’d be meeting Redburn at tonight was across the street, a round red awning protruding over the sidewalk. The Huntingtons might not have the penthouse suite, but these two did travel smartly. Hannah pushed Lilia down into the other chair at the table.
Eddie found their laptop, plopped down on the king-size bed, and sank two inches into the white fluff. “Whoa. This is nice. Snickerdoodle, you have to try out this bed.”
“In your dreams.” She hunkered over the Louis Vuitton luggage set and hauled the pieces up on the bed one by one.
He glanced at her as he gained access to the laptop. “Where’d you get the gloves?”
“My purse.” The satchel she had across her chest must carry a lot of work crap because she was super prepared. “Find anything yet?”
“Hold your horses, I just got in.”
“What are you looking for? We’re here on vacation.” George was going to stick to his innocent guns, apparently.
“Darling, hush, I’m not even sure they’re cops.” His wife was the smarter of the pair, clearly. “They haven’t read us our rights or told us why they’re arresting us.”
“Ding, ding, ding.” Eddie touched his index finger to his nose, then pointed at the man, who’d stopped struggling against the metal binding his hands.
“What are you looking for?” The man was persistent. It was a good thing Redburn didn’t know what these masterminds looked like; he’d hate to have to wear clothes that matched Hannah’s and bark orders like a Wall Street drone all day.
“Got it.” E-mails on meeting places with Redburn, obscure talk of money, and Seattle, all red flagged by Eddie’s virus.
“I think I have something, too.” Hannah dug around in the hard-shell suitcase with bright-colored clothes sticking out of it. Her hand emerged, grasping twenties—the most common U.S. bill counterfeited. “Bingo.” She smiled and her entire face lit up. The weariness of her lips was replaced with joy, and her dark blue eyes danced in happiness. Damn, she was beautiful.
“Care to explain that?” Eddie titled his head toward Hannah.
“It’s our traveling cash. We don’t like to put it all in one spot. Might get stolen.” Lilia arched a brow.
“You’re saying that if we test these, they won’t come back as counterfeit?” Hannah joined him near the bed, her sweet perfume surrounding him again. White chocolate—there had to be notes of that gratifying confection in her fragrance.
“Counterfeit?” George raised both brows, and for the first time, Eddie really looked at him. The damage from his elbow was apparent; George’s nose was red and swelling into the eye space, his clothes were disheveled, and his hair rumpled. But he was a good liar. The shock on his face would appear genuine to most people, but Eddie could see it in the sides of his eyes. He was guilty as hell.
Eddie decoded more of the notes on the laptop, directing the information to Hannah. “The dinner is set for tonight, as we were told”—there was a small victory in Leo’s not being a total liar—“and the deal should take place after that if all goes well.”
Hannah flipped her thumb over the money, and her hair blew back from the breeze. Then she reached into her pocket and produced her badge, flipping it out in standard form for them to see the gold shield in all its glory.
“Special Agent Hannah Malone with the FBI.” The corner of her lips started to turn up. Yeah, she definitely enjoyed that part.
Eddie kept searching the Huntingtons’ laptop for more clues on their operation and other irons they might have in the fire. If they could arrest not only Redburn and friends but catch other criminals, too, that would be a job well done indeed.
“We know you’re in town to meet with Warren Redburn,” Hannah continued, “and broker a deal on counterfeit money. I want the details that haven’t already been established.”
“Why would we do that?” Lilia crossed her legs and tried to lean back in her chair with her wrists still cuffed behind her back. The position was definitely putting uncomfortable pressure on Lilia’s upper arms and shoulders right about now.
“You’re not who we’re after. You’re small fish. I want the big fish.” Hannah sat on the edge of the dresser that held a flat-screen TV on the other end and crossed her ankles. “Help me out and I’ll help you out.”
“We have nothing to say.”
He ground his teeth. They didn’t have time for this defiance. The more time the couple wasted, the less time he had to dig into Leo’s predicament. Lilia or George had one more minute before Eddie started inserting his own pain onto their shoulders. Two fingers would be enough to dislocate it, and causing pain only got easier from there.
Wait. Yah buddy, coding to the rescue. “We don’t need them.” Eddie stood to show Hannah the screen. “You two keep really good notes, for criminals.”
“How’d you get this?” Hannah asked.
“I’m that good.” He waggled his brows at her, then turned his attention to the couple whose day just went from bad to worse. “Due to your excellent record keeping, I’m sure we’ll round up all of your friends in the next couple of days.”
“Our stuff is secure and coded.”
“I’m not just another pretty face. And my program was better at decoding than your program was at staying coded.” He closed the laptop and tucked it under his arm. He’d already sent a copy back to his own server, but he was going to keep it close by until the FBI had the information in their system.
Hannah stepped into the bathroom. He could hear her voice on the phone thanks to the sensitive earcomms, but it was faint and he could only pick up one side of the conversation. Hers.
“I need you to get to the Westin ASAP.” Her voice tensed; he could practically hear her stiffened posture, and he didn’t like it. “I don’t care what he said. Get here to take two people into custody. Double-time it.”
Ten minutes later, the two agents from the morning meeting, the ones who were supposed to be waiting downstairs this entire time, knocked on the door. Hannah intercepted them before they could enter, keeping her voice low. If she wanted them to ask the Huntingtons specific questions in the interrogation, then it would make sense to keep quiet, but there were also sudden lines on her forehead and stiffness to her back. And he could hear exactly what she said this time; it sounded like the agents were to keep how they’d intercepted the Huntingtons to themselves and report their findings only to her.
That could be standard operating procedure for a task force. But he hadn’t had a bad vibe this strong since ... well, this morning during Leo’s interrogation. There was more to Hannah’s story.
He didn’t have time to play the guessing game, out loud or internally. Right now he and Hannah had to get ready for the next step in the plan—impersonate the Huntingtons at dinner tonight with Redburn. There were records to sift through so they were up to speed, whether the young ones got anything out of the couple they’d just whisked away or not. His guess was not, unless the couple wised up and cut a deal for reduced sentencing. Part of him hoped that they didn’t get off that easily.
The other part of him was focused on Hannah. By all accounts, she’d just made a big bust by taking down counterfeiters and potentially their cohorts, and yet she wasn’t chomping at the bit to book them and take the credit—things he expected someone with grand career plans would do.
The door slammed, and he set his laptop on the table. He’d dig into more e-mails later. After he and Hannah had a deep and loving conversation about her honesty.
“I thought the juniors were outside this entire time. Why did you have to call them over?” He crossed his arms over his broad chest. She froze just as she made it to the suitcase on the bed.
“How did you know that?” The anger in her glare was real, and so was the surprise.
“I told you the earcomms are very sensitive.” He tapped his ear. “I can hear everything when you’re wearing it.”
Her gaze diverted to the phone in her hand. “They were called away and had to come back.”
“That makes no sense.” There was a legit reason he kept stepping closer: She needed to be pressed for information. “You just let them leave us without backup?” He felt his neck heat. Hannah’s sexiness aside, teams didn’t leave each other high and dry. He knew better than anyone from his army days. People worked in teams for a reason, and if he couldn’t trust Hannah or the rest of her people, they were going to have a problem. Scratch that. They had a problem.
“I’ll be having a chat with them about protocol.”
He nodded. “You do that before one of us gets killed.” He took the seat that Mr. Huntington had vacated and got back to the laptop.
There was no doubt Hannah could be a tough-as-brass boss, but there was no bite to her threat. Lies. All lies.
“They’ll be there when we need them.”
Sadness crept over her face, and just as quickly, it was gone. Special Agent Hannah Malone’s attachment to the task force wasn’t lining up.
Before dinner, he had to brush up on his counterfeit money knowledge and organize his gear—they were going to need it. And he should start the hunt for information that would get Leo off the hook for murder.
But first, he’d set his programs to collect information on Hannah.
• • •
Hannah snuck out of the hotel through the back entrance in case Redburn already had men in the lobby. First the office, then home. She’d lined up everything for the undercover work but failed to pack a couple of necessities of her own—changes of clothes for one, since she couldn’t very well be in a dress all weekend, a couple pairs of daily contacts, and face lotion. Her sensitive skin needed to stick to its coconut oil regime.
Her phone vibrated as she hailed a cab.
“Malone,” she answered, then told the driver, “Downtown police station.” It was easier than saying her apartment address since she just lived a block up from her office.
He glanced back at her in the rearview mirror, then drove, placing both hands on the wheel.
“Hey. It’s me,” Kate rushed out in a breath, no doubt power walking down a hall of the courthouse like she was on a warpath. “How’d it go?”
Hannah’s gaze fell on the cabby’s credentials posted on the plastic partition. All up to code. “Not so great. At first.” She cleared her throat. Lying sucked but it seemed to be the only thing she was good at today. “But now I’m back on track.”
Her friend since college was part of the district attorney’s office. Filling Kate in on too much might put her in an awkward spot later.
“You have that tone. Spill.”
There was no use in resisting. Kate didn’t have the best record of all the ADAs because she was bad at reading people. “I’ll share the details with you when it’s done. It took some doing”—aka trickery, deception, all the things she was against—“but I have an in and should know more tonight.”
“That was fast.”
“Got lucky.”
“Luck has nothing to do with it. You’re damn good at your job. Are you making them call you sir and get you coffee constantly?”
Hannah smiled. “I don’t even drink coffee.”
“That’s why it’s a power move.”
“You’re crazy.” Today’s task force had been short lived, but she’d run one again. To completion this time. Nailing Redburn would get her one step closer to overseeing the whole damn show.
“Are you actually going to meet him?”
Hannah could feel Kate stop midstride and pause.
“Yep.” Hannah found her sunglasses in her purse, slipped them on, then paid the driver, and started down the block, surveilling the sidewalk and cars driving past to make sure she wasn’t being tailed.
“You can do it,” Kate spoke softer into the phone.
Kate had been there when Robert died and helped with arranging his graveside funeral. She’d not overly doted on Hannah, but she’d showed up with pizza and movies more than once in an effort to comfort her Kate-style, which wasn’t mushy and one of the reasons they were so close. They let each other deal with life’s curveballs at their own pace. And when Hannah had looked into Robert’s death and discovered it was because of a nod from Warren Redburn, Kate had supported her investigation, even pulling records on the sly from an ancient case file at one point.
“Thank you.”
“If you need anything, anytime, you call, got me?” That was not a tone, or a woman, to be messed with. Hannah would, indeed, call if she needed. She was tapping into and draining all of her resources and calling in every single favor for this case. She was taking her best, and only, shot at Redburn, and failing wasn’t an option.
• • •
Eddie knocked on the bathroom door at five thirty sharp. She’d been in there for the last hour as he’d set up his own laptop, fine-tuned the tiny bugs they’d decided they should hide on Redburn’s phone and anywhere on his person tonight, and threw on the nicest clothes he owned that weren’t currently at the cleaners to get his partner’s bloodstains out. A lavender button-down, black slacks, black loafers. No wonder he kept seeing Amelia lying on the floor of that bus, covered in blood. As if he needed another reason to hate dressing up.
Be better. He felt for the tiny disk-shaped bugs in his pocket again, then ran his fingers over the white buttons trailing down his abdomen. The lavender shirt was an ode to his mom. She’d given him the same color shirt to wear for his high school graduation. It was fitting for tonight as well, considering what else he’d grabbed on the way to the hotel for the undercover op. He tapped the side of his leg again to make sure it was still there.
The door swung open, and Hannah’s sweet scent rushed over him, touching him in places he’d imagine her fingers could do wonders on. She stood before him in a stunning little black dress. His gaze followed the slit on her dress that started at her knee, sat on her thigh, and kept going up her creamy skin until it stopped nearly at her bikini line. The tips of his fingers tingled to run up that opening and keep going until he gripped her bare hip. The straps that disappeared behind her shoulders came down to crisscross over her perfectly plump breasts. The matte fabric hugged her curves through the waist and was cut out in a triangle just below her breasts. The little peek of skin called his name. It was hard to move his gaze; he wanted to hook his finger in the opening and pull her to him, show her that the heat they’d stirred up in her boss’s office wasn’t by accident.
This dinner was going to be hard to get through.
He licked his lips, feeling his palms dampen. She glanced up at him, and her blue eyes nearly stole his damn breath. Holy sex on a stick, she was a sight to behold. And less than two feet away from him. He could easily reach out, wrap his fingers around her waist, and never let go. Her dark blonde hair was not in a ponytail this time. Its waves flowed just below her shoulders. The ruby studs she’d worn earlier had been replaced with dangling diamonds. Hannah Malone was one classy lady. Definitely too classy for his jelly-donut-loving ass.
“You look beautiful.” He finally found his wits enough to speak.
“Thank you. You’re quite presentable yourself tonight.” She arched a brow. “Surprisingly. Is this what I should expect the rest of the weekend?” Her gaze wandered all the way down to his toes before locking on to his eyes again. His body was electrified under her dark blue stare, and his breathing labored. He swallowed to try to calm the rising heat covering his skin, but it was no use. She’d already turned him on.
This wasn’t good. His body and mind needed to get their act together. He wasn’t a serious relationship person. Not that she’d shown any interest in him at all. He had no words for their kiss, but she hadn’t shown interest since. Whatever this reaction to her, it wasn’t manifesting into something outside his own thoughts anytime soon.
“Fake it till you make it.”
“Or till you catch the bad guy.” She stepped past him, grabbed her green carry-on that would make flight attendants roll their eyes, and opened it on the bed, pulling out a small gun tucked between five pairs of jeans. Then she paused and quickly glanced over at him. Shit, she’d caught him staring practically with his mouth open, picturing the very few private places she could hide the gun.
She picked a red clutch from her folded clothes pile and stuck the gun in there. He wrinkled his forehead. Dammit, he didn’t get to see where she’d intended to nuzzle the gun to her skin.
“I don’t think so.” He stifled a smile.
“What?” She snapped her purse shut.
“Redburn won’t be coming alone, and his people could check us; we don’t want to start off on the wrong foot. We don’t know that the Huntingtons are violent.”
“So they confiscate it.” Hannah shrugged, not making one move to remove the gun.
“Then they are on the defensive, and we need them to be at ease. The entire time.” He rested his palms on his hips.
“You aren’t carrying?” She glanced at his sides, then rifled around in her suitcase again.
“I don’t need to.” He was a great shot, yeah, but he was also trained in hand-to-hand combat should the need arise. Plus, they were meeting at a swanky restaurant; no one was shooting anyone at dinner. “We have the earcomms with the two-man team that’ll be monitoring outside and can handle it if things go wrong.”
She paused as her brow furrowed and she rubbed her light pink lips together. “Fine.” She threw her gun back in the suitcase and flipped the top back over, then stepped into shiny red high heels with a closed pointed toe. Her legs had a shine, her calf muscle flexed, and Eddie forgot how to form words.
She stepped closer to him, her long lashes framing her round eyes. “Got the bugs?”
“Yep.” He reached into his right pocket for the devices and removed three. “Here’s a couple.” He started to place them in her outstretched palm, then pulled back. “Do you know what you’re doing with them?”
“I can plant a bug just fine.”
“The only reason we both have some is that I don’t know who’s going to have the opportunity. If they’re found, we’re screwed.”
“Believe me, I know.”
“Someone’s got tricks I don’t know about.” He was tempted to wink, but, geez, he was out of his comfort zone here.
She took the little circles out of his palm, opened their hotel door, and somehow replaced her edge with pure femininity faster than he could blink. She disappeared down the hallway, her ass swinging the entire way, and he unabashedly hung back to watch for a moment, noticing her shoulder-length hair had bounce to it. He hadn’t seen it down yet. She turned her head while she walked and smiled as she glanced back at him. Her grin touched her eyes, and his lips parted. A completely different, flirty, and carefree woman led the way.
The elevator dinged, and he waved his hand for her to go first. When it fell back by his side, he felt the metal in his pocket. The rings. He’d never worn a ring and wasn’t jazzed about putting one on now, but they couldn’t afford anything to be out of place in his mission. One wrong move could scare Redburn away.
He reached in and produced a silver band for him and a set of rings for her. “Congratulations. I’m not sure you married well, but I did. Looks like we’re officially Mr. and Mrs. now.”
He held the silver band with a marquise diamond between his thumb and index finger and held it up to her left hand. He slipped the rings on her finger, band first, then the diamond. They fit. Perfectly.
She didn’t say anything as she watched. Hopefully, this silence wouldn’t become a thing with her in these awkward moments.
Damn. His throat tightened as if he’d asked for real. Which was dumb. He didn’t really know Hannah, and beyond her obviously good looks, he had no idea if there was truly chemistry between them.
“I can’t believe I forgot about the ring.” She held out her hand, admiring the bands. “You just had this lying around?”
“A Boy Scout is always prepared, Milky Way.”
He wasn’t a relationship guy. The pain of losing a person he cared about was a bitch and had hollowed him out twice before—once with his mom’s passing and another when his brothers-in-arms were killed. Going down that road again wasn’t an option. The thought alone of giving someone else his heart, of tying his life to that person, overwhelmed him. There was no way he could actually do it. He was happy with his job, and his life. It didn’t exactly lend itself to being home by five for dinner. Short-term relationships were all he could muster.
The rings, his mom’s rings to be exact, were a means to an end. Helping Leo.
The elevator doors opened, and he gave Hannah his elbow. Tech was his wheelhouse; his fingers flying over the keys and helping him to call the shots was something he could do without a second thought. Even staying in the shadows for an op didn’t raise his blood pressure. But tonight he was a front man, undercover with Hannah, even if he did prefer the shadow.
In a perfect world, Redburn would admit his scumbag status tonight, and Leo could be freed and Hannah happy. Eddie could see the writing on the wall. Hannah was already getting under his skin. There was a story there. And part of him wanted to know it. The other part of him wanted to get far away from her.
The conflict sat squarely on his shoulders, more weight added with each passing hour.
They were right on time, and Eddie attempted to relax with a deep breath. Nope. It didn’t work. He was alert and thinking steps ahead. If Redburn didn’t show up, Hannah wasn’t going to like the backup plan—especially since it involved them actually being bad guys instead of just pretending. But, hey, she’d been the one to go down this road, and he was going to take full advantage of any opportunity to get Leo off the hook. While she was trying to build a case to lock up a man, he was trying to keep his brother from losing his life. The deal they’d struck earlier definitely had a one-sided slant.
Eddie slid his hand into Hannah’s. They were supposed to be a loving couple, after all.
“Huntington,” Eddie checked in at the host podium.
“Right this way, sir.” The white-haired man in a black suit led them through the dimly lit restaurant to the back corner of a side room.
Thank goodness they were seated at an empty table. He needed to get his bearings, he needed to figure out what the hell he was doing pretending to be someone else when he barely managed to be the best he could be, and he needed to shake off Hannah’s effect. She was not a good-looking agent tonight; she was a stunning bombshell in a dress that steered more than his mind away from the task at hand.
Their arms brushed before she slid into the red faux-leather booth, and he cursed his long-sleeved shirt. Stop it. We aren’t a thing. They were on a fake date for a real mission.
“What are you doing?” Hannah set her purse on the bench.
“Sitting next to you.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Yes, Junior Mint, that is exactly what is happening.” He lowered his voice. “Now scoot.”
She huffed out a pocket of air as she shifted her fine behind to the left, locking herself in between the wall and him. His night was going swimmingly as far as he was concerned, on the outside at least, but judging by the permanent wrinkle between her eyebrows, she didn’t feel the same way.
“Stop moving around.” She took a drink of her water.
“I’m not moving around.” But shit fire, this plan was going too smoothly. There were always unknowns. He hated unknowns.
“You keep tapping your leg.” She slid her hand down and placed it on top of his thigh. His upper thigh. Well, now he wished he’d worn shorts. He had on way too much clothing to be sitting this close to Hannah.
“You’re going to need to keep your hand there.” He chuckled to make a joke out of his serious request.
If they were going to pass as a couple, this detail with her hand on his lap was the perfect touch. If he planned to string a coherent sentence together to stay in character with their assignment, her hand was not ideal. At all.
Think of anything else but her.
She rolled her eyes at him and removed her palm. Then something over his shoulder caught her attention, and her face froze mid-smirk. He didn’t turn around to make anything obvious. He knew what she saw. Redburn was here. Finally. Now they could move on to the next phase of the half-cocked, half flying-by-the-seat-of-their-pants plan: convincing a seasoned crime boss they were the counterfeiters he needed.
Bring it.
“Just breathe,” he whispered, their bodies close enough to each other that he felt her suck in a breath and keep it in.
She started to say something about the color of his shirt, then cut herself off.
His brows furrowed. Yeah, small talk wasn’t going to work right now. Her hands were starting to shake.
Yet without saying another word, she leaned in and pressed her lips on his. Fully. Slowly. He sat stunned for a moment, unsure what to do. Then all the blood flowed down, his senses turned back on, and he knew exactly what to do. He wrapped his palm around her bare upper arm—finally, a chance to touch her soft skin—and pulled her against his chest. He opened his mouth to deepen the kiss and tangled his tongue with hers until they were in a full-on make-out session at the fanciest restaurant he’d ever been in. The zeal with which she kissed him back sent flares of surprise down his spine and heat into his lower gut. Shit, he could do this all night. But they were there for a job, and lives were on the line.
He pulled back and opened his eyes. Hers were still closed until he created a cold distance between them. This is not what I want. She opened her eyes, and he froze in the stunning deepness of her blue irises. Her gaze was hot with fire and passion, and then, for a moment, just hot. As if she were calculating something.
Suddenly, a wry smile crossed her lips.
“I’m glad we settled that, my love.” She pecked his lips again before sitting back and pressing her hands together in her lap. Her knuckles were white. “I hate it when we fight.” Spoken as if they were true lovers and she hated it when they fought. He would hate it, too, if they were lovers and fought, because with those eyes and that kiss, there was no battle she wouldn’t win.
“Hamptons this summer it is, my beauty.” He tried for a fake smile, but found a real one turning up the corners of his lips because, damn, Hannah was the best roller-coaster ride he’d ever been on. He couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, he’d been kissed so completely. He was going to have to reevaluate the way he dated from now on.
“Much better nickname than the candy references,” she ducked her head and whispered.
Eddie made sure his voice wasn’t too loud but carried. “We have to settle the Ragnor deal before we can do anything. I can’t relax and enjoy you fully in that little red number you wear out by the pool until that is set up. Our partners to the east are depending on it.”
Don’t ever let it be said he’d wasted his time searching George’s client list on the laptop.
“Mr. and Mrs. Huntington.” A sturdy white-haired man in a cream shirt and black slacks and with reddish old-man skin smiled at them.
“Mr. and Mrs. Redburn.” He stood and smiled back. “Call me George, please. It’s a pleasure.” He shook his target’s hand, but Mrs. Redburn had already made her way into the booth. “This is my wife, Lilia.” The two women greeted each other, and Redburn nodded in Hannah’s direction before ordering an old, expensive-sounding wine from the maître d’.
Eddie took his seat and put his arm around Hannah as if he’d done it a thousand times before and wrapped his palm around her shoulder. She didn’t pull back; she didn’t even tense under his touch. Instead she leaned into him. He glanced around the room for a second. Had he been transported to some alternate universe in which Hannah actually liked him?
Snap out of it, man.
He kept his focus on her; the better to avoid making it obvious he was trying for Mr. Redburn’s attention. It was easy to study Hannah. Mom’s ring flickered in the candlelight on the table as Hannah reached for the glass of wine the waiter poured. What would his mother have thought of him callously using her ring like this? She might’ve been okay with it since he was technically doing it to save Leo.
Sorry, Mom.